


Breathing By Rote

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-23
Updated: 2005-10-07
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:30:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Angelus/Riley. When Xander and Spike get tossed back in time, Angelus gets clued in on his future and decides to do a few things differently.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Title: Breathing By Rote

by Scylla Blue

Rating: FRAO

Paring: Angelus/Riley, Spike/Xander

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Summary: When Xander and Spike get tossed back in time, Angelus gets clued in on his future and decides to do a few things differently.

Archive: Please ask first, otherwise: Adultfan, WWOMB, and Beyond Canon.

Warnings: I don’t know if this actually needs to be said, but people will be manipulated in this story. Namely, our boy Riley. Tall, dark and brooding will own his ass, so if you’re looking for hearts and flowers, please go elsewhere. Last story, OT, I just happily tossed bodies in the bed, but this time I’m going to stick to my pairings listed above. So if you’re looking for one big ol’ orgy, I feel ya, but it’s not gonna be here.

Author’s Notes: Won’t be near the size of the first A/R I wrote, but I like this one, so much so I‘ve decided to post it before finishing OT. It‘s been distracting me from my other stories, so you all might as well suffer along with me. My biggest problem was what scenes to include and I keep going back and adding more. I don’t own Buffy on DVD so it’s not easy to go back and reference (ah, but to have the money), so as usual, I’m relying on faulty memory. Everyone who reads this can probably think of more scenes I could have added to flush out the chronology. Talk about a backwards round robin. Okay, rambling. No editor but myself, so please forgive, or better yet, point out any errors. Definite AU. I guessed at dates.

***

 

April 14th, the first time.

 

London stank. The streets were crowded in the early evening, people dressed in dark winter coats and hats bumping into each other, too hurried to apologize, to look to see where they were going. It was suffocating, but he’d endured worse on the subways and being a good head taller than most of the locals helped. He let the press of bodies push him along, scanning the street signs for the address he held in one gloved hand. His breath plumed in the cold air and he shivered, hugging his heavy wool coat tighter.

 

It was another three blocks before he found the street. He was almost swept past it, his polite ‘excuse me’s having to give way to careful shoving. The mansion was in a rich part of town, on a quiet, respectable street that understood money made your neighbors deaf and the police nonexistent. The large three and four storied houses crowded into each other, but narrow alleys ran between them. He walked past his target, not looking up at the lit windows, then ducked down the alley two houses down, circling back.

 

Guards were a given, but he didn’t think they were prepared for him. Unbuttoning his coat, he pulled out a compacted crossbow, crouching down behind a garden trellis to load the grappling arrow. The trailing rope was half a centimeter thick and could support half a ton easily. Marking his bull’s-eye he waited until there was a noise on the street, boys running past laughing and shouting, before he stood and fired, the commotion muffling the noise of the arrow thudding home. From there it was a few seconds to the roof.

 

Jimmying a window, he eased his six foot plus frame into a darkened bathing room. He stayed crouched for several minutes beneath the window, listening to the sounds of the house, voices rising and falling as people walked near his location. At least three females, possibly six males, none of them voices he recognized. The floor plans in his pocket showed his target to be three doors down, to the right. Moving on quiet feet, he approached the door.

 

No sound outside in the hall and he cracked the door open. No sound didn’t mean a thing, but he couldn’t wait forever. Making sure the door closed behind him, he dashed to the third door. Took a deep breath, and slipped inside.

 

The room was dark, but he heard a rustling of noise right before he was slammed into the wall, a smaller body painful against his own, arm against his throat, low pitched growling mixing with his grunt of pain. His instinct was to fight, but he held himself still, waiting for the other to bring his face in close, sniffing.

 

“Finn?” The body eased off and candlelight weakly lit the room. Riley Finn smiled into the shocked yellow eyes of the vampire in front of him, gaze taking in the teenager padding up with the candle in one hand, his other occupied keeping his modesty safely tucked into a hastily wrapped silk sheet.

 

“Spike. Xander. Fancy meeting you here.”

 

"Ri? How long have you been here? I thought me and Spike were the only ones near the spell when it went blewy." Xander grinned, bumping shoulders with his lover, obviously pleased to see a familiar face. Riley tiredly smiled back before he caught sight of the collar around the teenager's neck. Thin black leather with gold scrollwork it looked a little too fancy to be a fashion accessory, but he wasn’t quite sure what to ask so he let it go.

 

"You were the only ones caught in the spell's backlash. Giles sent me to bring you back.” Then, because he really couldn’t stop looking at it, “Xander, why are you wearing a collar?"

 

The teenager blushed, fingers reaching up to smooth over the expensive looking leather. "It's a long story."

 

"You've been here," the commando dug into an inside pocket to pull out his modern day watch, "for less than nine hours. How long can it be?"

 

"Nine hours? Ri, we've been here for three weeks!" Xander shouted, an arm swinging out to gesture around the Spartan bedroom, wax splashing. "Three weeks of no TV, no microwaves, no Angelina Jolie, no zippers! Do you know how many buttons are on clothes with no zippers? Lots! And you don't want to see what passes for a john around here!"

 

"Welcome to the 19th century," Spike muttered, wandering back to the gigantic four poster bed that dominated the room. The slender vampire hadn't bothered to clothe himself and treated Riley to a nice view of his pert ass. The natural blond jerked his eyes away.

 

"Okay. So why the collar?"

 

"Oh." Xander made a face. "The only mortals allowed in Angelus' house are either food or pets. Since I'm nobody's happy meal, I have to wear a collar to keep my blood on the inside and to make sure I'm only lookey-lookey, and no touchy-touchy with the rest of the suckfaces."

 

"We're pre-curse?" The teenager nodded and Riley looked past him to Spike sitting on the edge of the bed. "Congratulations. Can we leave now?"

 

The vampire smirked from under lowered lashes. "Why would we want to leave? Don't you want to meet me sire?"

 

"No, I don't. I don't want to meet anyone." Stepping around Xander, Riley marched up to the master vampire, ignoring his lack of covering to meet his amused gaze head on. "We're two hundred years in the past, Spike. Everyone we meet, everything we do, could alter the timeline. That could cause a paradox, that could then lead to the unraveling of time itself. Do you want to cease to exist?"

 

"Calm down, pet, we've been behaving ourselves. Xan ain't left the house but once or twice, and I've been sticking to the date book. Ain't killed a single Mary I didn't do the first time."

 

"It's true, Riley," Xander said as he shuffled up, pressing a thick glass of what smelled like whiskey into his hand. "I cross an ocean and a couple of centuries and I'm still stuck doing research." He glared at his unrepentant lover. "We've been trying to find a way back. What did Giles find?"

 

The soldier shrugged. "It's Giles; I have no clue what he did, but he put the spell on me. All I have to do is repeat the incantation and we're home." He looked between the two. "Is there another long story to the lack of clothes or can we get going?"

 

"Now?" Spike snorted. "Give it an hour, luv. We've played ourselves low key, but I had to tell Angelus when we were from. He wouldn't have taken me bringing in a smart mouth like Xander unless I had a good reason. I ain't who I used to be and Angelus has covered my slip ups with the help and Darla. He deserves to know we're leaving."

 

Riley sagged where he stood, tiredly closing his eyes even as he reluctantly nodded. The aches of too little sleep, earlier battles, and the lingering nausea of his mortal body being forced through time renewed their press on his consciousness. A part of him found it amusing that he had lost the ability to be impressed and awed by such impossible feats as time travel, but he mostly just wanted to go home and go to bed. The tumbler felt heavy and he chugged the contents with a small flinch before he dropped it. The whiskey burned all the way to his knotted stomach and he let the glass fall, not caring if Spike’s reflexes would catch it in time.

 

A soft touch on his arm made him jerk back, but it was just Xander. "Riley, you look beat, and if your time warp was anything like ours, you must be feeling as bad as you look. I was puking for an hour straight, how do you manage?" He held up a hand. "I know, 'the few, the proud'. Why don't you get nice with my pillow? When Spike has all his ducks neat, we'll go." Hands tugged at him, skinning him of the heavy outer coat. "Where'd you get the clothes anyway?"

 

"Tara knew some theatre people." He grinned even as he let Xander shove him down onto the bed. "Mine's got zippers."

 

"That's just evil." Xander sat on the edge to pull off his shoes. "Bet you've got real underwear on too. Do you know what passes for underwear around here?"

 

Riley was asleep before he heard the answer.

 

oOo

 

“So soon to return to your own time?” Angelus quietly asked, staring down at the brawny child curled asleep on his Will’s bed. “This boy who slips through the walls, he has the means to carry you home?”

 

“Riley’s a Yank soldier,” Spike answered from behind him, “don’t be too hard on the help for not noticing him. Disappearing is part of his charm. And yeah, he’s here to take us back.”

 

“When?” Reaching down, Angelus fingered the short blond hair, intrigued by a mortal who could slip undetected into a master vampire’s domain. Before today, he wouldn’t have thought it possible. Even now, as the steady rhythm of his beating heart filled Angelus’ ears, he questioned the slumbering sight before him. A most skilled boy and the vampire’s eyes cut to his own childe. Spike spoke little of his time, but sadness tainted his scent when he looked at his sire. As though he mourned. Riley only added to his misgivings, for surely he would have turned such a beautiful, resourceful youth.

 

“In a few hours,” Spike answered, choosing not to notice his sire’s absent petting of the Slayer’s boyfriend. “Traveling back takes a lot out of a mortal body. Xan was loopy for days, remember? Hayseed may be built for punishment but I’ll never hear the end of it if his heart craps out on the way back.” The sandy blond patted the pockets of his brocaded coat. “Left the whelp down in the kitchen. Best go see he don’t empty the larder.” The younger vampire wouldn’t meet his eyes and quickly left the room.

 

Angelus frowned after his retreating childe. There was much he was not being told, but there was equally much he did not need to be told. His sweet, beautiful Will was called Spike by his mortal lover. What kind of degrading moniker was Spike? If he truly loved that bright, adorable boy, why hadn’t he turned him, insured he would have Xander for eternity? And who would have Spike’s hide if something happened to Riley?

 

oOo

 

An observer possessed of normal perceptions would have missed the colonialist’s waking. Not a muscle twitched and his breathing stayed deep and regular, but Angelus listened to his heartbeat increase and watched with avid interest as the boy tried to ascertain his surroundings without giving himself away. As the vampire had never ceased his petting while he slept, he was impressed at the control shown in not reacting to the intimate contact. Someone had trained the boy well; was it hope that he was responsible?

 

With sudden violence Riley attacked, back pedaling even as he attempted to injure. The brunette blocked the well-aimed kick and in turn grabbed at his ankle. Vampiric strength and speed yanked the boy back within reach and beneath him, wiggling and twisting. Angelus caught his wrists and pressed them to the coverlet to either side of the blond head, chuckling at the stream of curses as the boy found himself effectively immobilized.

 

Exquisite in his fear and anger, sweat sheening his golden flesh. A fine trembling carried through his limbs and Angelus wondered at the beauty of the form hidden beneath the heavy clothes. Hard muscles strained against his weight, and the vampire thought again of possessing this exceptional youth even as he bent to claim his mouth. A muffled exclamation and the boy tried to twist away, but Angelus shifted his wrists to one hand at the small of his back and reached with the other to hold him in place. Nipping and licking, by slow increments the dry, soft lips opened under his assault, the submission made sweeter for its shy reluctance.

 

With a warning bite to his bottom lip, Angelus thrust his tongue into the gasping mouth, determined to map every cranny. The youth tasted of scotch recently imbibed, a familiar flavor of Irish whiskey, and the vampire growled his pleasure. By slow persuasion the mouth beneath his hesitantly began to respond, surrendering to his aggressive seduction. Trailing his hand from the clean jaw the distance to the wool trousers, he palmed the youth’s crotch, roughly massaging his hardening manhood. He found an odd metal strip instead of buttons, but simply tore the cloth free and took a firm grip.

 

“No!” Riley yelped, bucking and writhing helplessly as his own pre-cum slicked Angelus’ fist.

 

“Now, lad, why fight what your body craves? Give in to it.” Shifting to his knees he pressed upward with the fist holding the strong wrists, arching the muscular body. Bending, he deep throated the youth in one easy swallow. Riley screamed his sudden orgasm, scalding semen hitting the back of the vampire’s throat, the intense wave of pleasure from the boy carrying him to his own release.

 

*

 

Reality returned to Riley with a ridged face nuzzling into his neck, but he was too lethargic from one of the most powerful orgasms in his short life to fight the gentle nipping. He felt his skin break, then a cool tongue. It seemed the vampire wanted to play with his food.

 

“You’re really going to hate yourself one of these days,” Riley whispered. “Oh yeah, major self-blame. Too bad I won’t be able to rub it in.” He sighed. “Still, I am amused.”

 

Angelus pulled back to scowl at him. His lack of attention made a slow trickle start to worm down Riley’s throat. “Are ye addled? Is that why yer not mine yet?”

 

“Yours?” Riley exclaimed, angrily jerking his captured arms in a futile attempt to free himself. “You hate my guts, a state of emotion I wholeheartedly return.” Stupid, stupid, Riley cursed himself at being unable to stop himself, but what he’d given away had been small. What did it matter if Angelus knew they didn’t like each other? Or rather, he didn’t like Angel; Angelus was an altogether different sort of man from his girlfriend’s broody ex. This guy didn’t seem the type to hulk in a dark corner and wax poetic about how much his unlife sucked, thick honey brogue or not.

 

“Ah, lad,” Angelus murmured, the cold possessive touch of his hand running up under his heavy wool shirt making him shiver, “how could I despise such a delectable treat as yourself? I’ve tasted ye, and I’ll have ye, no matter your imagined sins.”

 

Riley dropped his head to the coverlet with a groan. With a harsh sound his shirt tore, baring him to the vampire’s devouring mouth. Angelus ripped a strip of his shirt free while he suckled the blond’s nipples, laving them until they were hard pebbles he could tease with his fangs. Feeling himself beginning to respond in spite of his wants Riley softly cursed and bucked his hips, trying to dislodge the inhuman weight bearing him down. 

 

The vampire laughed and reared up to flip Riley over onto his stomach, quickly stripping him of his shirt before tying his wrists with the ribbon of heavy cotton. “Beautiful,” Angelus breathed against his shoulder, hands pinning the American’s hips to the bed. Canines sank into the meat of Riley’s shoulder and the blond thrashed with a scream. Bloody kisses trailed up his collarbone until a cool, sticky tongue lapped the nape of his neck. “When I first saw my sweet William I knew that boy was mine. His blood was a siren, calling me home. Just as your blood calls.”

 

“No,” Riley gritted out, but he couldn’t stop the vampire from clamping onto the back of his neck, icy pain traveling the length of his spine as the fangs pierced the nerve sensitive skin. The bite was different this time, heavier and more painful, and he gasped for breath as he felt himself falling. It was the only way he could think of it, the firm satin he was pressed to fading away into a great distance. His whole body felt detached, floating, his only anchor the shard of agony at his nape. It grew and bloomed into exquisite pleasure, waves that surged him into the body behind him. 

 

Every touch electrified him and he remotely heard the vampire laugh as he wiggled in helping divest him of his pants. His higher brain functions shut down and he existed for sensation, for the ecstasy every caress those large hands brought. A wet resilience probed his anus and he shrieked. Cold slippery fingers stretched him open and he mewled and panted, body undulating with a primal hunger. When Angelus pulled him to his knees and onto his engorged penis Riley screamed his satisfaction, pain and pleasure indistinguishable. 

 

“Ahhh! Fuck, yes!“ Orgasm rolled through him in the same rhythm of the vampire’s thrusts, as brutal and unending as the man fucking him. Riley screamed himself hoarse and pleaded for more, begging Angelus to split him open, to fill him, mark him, forever. His pelvis felt like it was going to crack and it all felt delicious. There was no pain, no agony but when Angelus pulled out. But the vampire never long abandoned him to torment, thrusting back in over and over until he roared, emptying his cold dead seed deep into Riley’s burning flesh. His own orgasm rushed after and Riley hoarsely shouted as he splashed his release onto the sheets beneath them.

 

*

 

With a guttural groan Angelus collapsed to the mattress keeping the boy in his arms. His cock was still shooting its load as its warm sheath continued to massage him of every drop, sending pleasant aftershocks through his whole body. Reaching down he freed the American’s wrists so he could hug him more tightly. The boy was shaking and the vampire started to purr, certain the rolled mind would react favorably. 

 

Riley calmed quickly, glazed eyes fluttering closed. He reacted as a childe would to its sire, reinforcing Angelus’ suspicions that the boy was chosen for his House. Burying his face in the sweat curled hair the vampire breathed in his scent. No average mortal would respond as Riley had to being dominated. The boy had reacted naturally and powerfully to the simplest of Angelus’ commands after being marked, his mind completely surrendered to their mutual pleasure. What scared him was that not even his William had submitted so completely or given him such pleasure. He was still hard and in his long life he could not remember such ecstasy, not even at his own sire’s hand. 

 

The boy had spoken of hate between them and Angelus silently vowed to change that. He would not lose his future childe to anything. Petting the damp skin he let his cool touch slowly bring the boy down, marveling at the silk that was Riley’s flesh, hard and soft at the same time. There could be no mistaking this boy for a woman. No, he was all beautiful male and Angelus reveled in his strong musk, imprinting. No matter how long into the future he had to wait, he’d recognize his childe-to-be when he met him again.

 

The quiet lasted for several long minutes until Riley’s quiet breathing subtly hitched, signaling his return to consciousness. Still nestled deep in his body Angelus eagerly waited for his reaction, knowing he wasn’t going to be disappointed. Any other prey and they would wake crying or screaming, begging for their lives. Riley, unpredictable little thing that he was, just did a clever lift and roll that freed him to stretch out on his stomach. He scrunched his face into the pillow before turning his head to meet Angelus’ avid golden eyes. The vampire was surprised to see no tears or anger, just tiredness and . . .curiosity?

 

“You’re still here?” the boy asked, not cruelly. Genuinely surprised and Angelus frowned.

 

“Want me somewhere else, boy?”

 

A minimalist shrug answered him, those haunted hazel eyes drifting shut. “This doesn’t matter, does it? My girlfriend can barely sleep in the same bed with me, when she bothers to put in appearance at all. We fuck, she leaves to more important things. Why should you be any different?”

 

Angelus was offended. “Yer comparing me to skirt? To some mortal fluff?”

 

Riley’s eyes opened to stare at him for a long minute, inscrutable. Then he smiled. “Forgot, sorry. You’re not . . . I’m not a substitute, am I?”

 

There was a story here, a wound he could clearly see, but he frankly didn’t care to find out the details. But he didn’t like seeing the beautiful child in such pain that he had no part in. Taking a painful grip of dark blond hair Angelus dragged the boy up to his mouth. Hard and brutal and he smiled when the boy mewled into the kiss, hands clutching at his muscled shoulders. He took the boy’s mouth until his squirming went from pleasure to discomfort to panic, to a desperation for air. Until his unnatural detachment vanished with the hard fist that tried to break them apart. Angelus was an inherently selfish creature. He did not like his efforts to seduce and terrorize being ignored or worse still, being relegated to a lesser affront. 

 

Laughing Angelus pulled back, catching that angered fist before it could strike him again. “There’s my hellion!” he grinned, wrestling the child prone. Hazel eyes glared up at him, but the boy didn’t strike out again, chest heaving. His burst of energy was short lived; Angelus could feel his exhaustion and knew no more games were going to keep the boy awake much longer. An unfortunate failing of mortals. “I took you because I wanted to, just as I’ll one day have you as a childe.”

 

Riley looked away and his smile was not pleasant to look at. “Tell me that in two hundred odd years, okay? Neither one of us is the Long Haul Guy.” His eyes were on the wrist Angelus was pressing to the bedspread, but when he tried to tug himself free the vampire looming over him just tightened his grip. Again with the vague references to an unpleasant future and he growled out his frustration, but Riley’s saddened hazel eyes were un-focusing. The trapped fist uncurled and the boy was out.

 

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

They chose an empty room in the basement that smelled suspiciously of human suffering, but the walls and floor were clean but for the stains so no one commented. Xander was fair bouncing in excitement, dressed in his old clothes, though Riley noted a suspicious folding in his back pocket that could have been a particular strip of leather. It was reassuring to see Spike back in his black duster, patting his various pockets as he nudged his lover into place near the center of the room.

 

For himself, Riley didn’t know what he wanted. He had woken up in Spike’s room alone, sore and with a confusing swelter of memories or dreams, a change of clothes laid out for him on a nearby chair. His own clothes had been shredded and his neck throbbed in time to the ache in his abraded wrists and mauled shoulder. There was semen leaking from his ass with a little blood, but he couldn’t seem to panic. Angelus had fucked him, hard, and all he could feel was a pleasant, comforting warmth. What the hell was wrong with him? He blushed to remember he’d begged for it, screamed for it, and he wanted to feel dirty, used, but a foreign weight about his mind kept him from any negative contemplation. He was being controlled somehow, but as he stretched back on the rucked sheets he’d just smiled and sleepily contemplated the canopied ceiling until Spike wandered in to prod him up.

 

The vampire at his back was a heavy presence, hands guiding him down the stairs and into the room, the possessive touch never far from his person. The man made no bones about his interest, and the ex-Initiative agent had to repeatedly remind himself that the man sucking on his ear lobe was a cold blooded, undead killer, possessed of neither conscience nor heart. And his girlfriend was the Slayer, Angelus’ nemesis. 

 

It was hard to think, to remember all the horror stories he had been briefed on about the seductive creature holding him tight to its chest, and it was an it, he desperately reminded himself, he had to remember that. He was being lovingly fondled by a demon, one of the worst according the Buffy and Giles. Fingers carded his hair and he turned his head, catching Spike’s smirking grin. With a renewed surge of anger he jerked himself free and escaped to the middle of the room.

 

Xander gripped his arm, his unspoken question of concern evident in his upturned face. Unwilling to admit how rattled he was, Riley clasped his shoulder in thanks, but just as silently refused the sympathy. This was all going to be over soon. Angelus was for all intents dead in the future. Once home he’d be able to forget all of this and that didn‘t cause him one ounce of pain. Or any pain that he acknowledged.

 

“Ready?” He asked, refusing to look as sire and childe embraced a few feet away, Spike’s submissive attitude at odds with the abrasive vampire he had forced himself to tolerate. One of them was making a low growling noise, but it sounded more comforting than threatening, and he felt a sudden pang imagining what this was costing Spike. The future he was returning to would be absent the vampire who had created him, but not the body. He understood enough from his talks with Xander what an important figure a sire was in a childe’s life. It would probably have hurt Spike less to see his sire dusted than twisted into that better-than-everybody Angel.

 

After a few minutes the vampires separated with a final caress of long fingers down a pale shallow cheek that turned into the touch. Riley turned away from the painful intimacy, trying to remember the last time anyone had touched him with such longing. He needed to concentrate, to remember the words Giles had written before him in clear script but refused to let him speak aloud.

 

“Let time return what was sent aside.” At least that was what the words meant. The language he spoke in was guttural and hurt his over taxed throat. As he croaked the last word there was a drop of silence, then the familiar blue vortex opened before him. It swirled and raged within its contained space, making Riley think there should have been a wind to tear at his clothes, a thundering roar to deafen. There was not, however, and the lack made it all the more frightening. Its appearance wrenched something painfully inside him, but his stoic expression didn’t change. Six steps at the most and he would be back home. Deep, even breaths and he straightened the shoulders that had subtly drooped.

 

“Oh yeah, that looks a little too familiar,” Xander muttered, drawing Riley’s attention. The teenager was in Angelus’ arms, receiving a brief hug and kiss.

 

“Come on, pet,” Spike called over his shoulder, brushing past Riley to step into the vortex. With a last glance at the master vampire Riley followed.

 

***

 

Xander faded into the blue light, the last to leave. The vortex lingered some minutes after they left, but Angelus could acknowledge no impulse to step into the unknown. He understood well enough this was his world and his future childe’s visit, no matter how disturbing, could only help him keep this world his own. Forewarned and all that rot.

 

The vortex blinked out of a sudden and in the space it had filled Angelus found his William. The blond was curled upon himself, but at his touch started awake. His gold eyes were wide and frightened, tears coursing his pale cheeks as he clambered into his sire’s lap.

 

“Will?”

 

“Sire, don’t leave, please don’t leave,” William sobbed, clutching at the older vampire so tightly he tore the rich brocade of his evening coat. “That bitch, she made you leave, and you never come back, never. Please don’t, don’t go, don’t become that thing, don’t leave me and Dru!”

 

“Shhh, childe,” Angelus shushed, realizing at last the pain he had seen in Spike’s eyes whenever the boy had looked at him. Of why he had not turned Riley. “I will never leave you, my sweet Will.”

 

***

 

Stepping out of her rented carriage the woman drew many an admiring eye on the street, dressed as was the fashion on the Continent and obviously of the ton. It was early evening, still a decent hour to call on acquaintances, and she ascended the stairs with the aid of her footman. The front lights were out, but as no one came to answer the sharp rapping, she realized the entire lavishly appointed house was dead quiet. Empty. Her footman knocked again and the woman realized they were beginning to draw curious attention.

 

“Enough!” She caught the man’s cane, crushing the hard wood between her dainty fingers. “He is obviously not at home!” The house was empty, abandoned, and as she accepted her man’s arm to help her back down the stairs Darla wondered where her childe and his worthless brood had gotten to. Angelus should have been here, waiting for his sire. She had plans, plans to tie her childe to her forever, to at last break his willfulness and end the pitiful existence of those freaks he dared to dedicate his attention to. Angelus should have at last been hers again, and he would be, she assured herself. Once she found him, he would be.

 

oOo

 

1985\. Iowa.

Maria Finn brought her six year old son to the town’s clinic at just after one in the morning. She had left her six other children at home under the care of the eldest with dire threats hanging over her head if another of her siblings ‘tripped’ down the stairs. A nurse came and took Riley away without her really noticing. Her nerves were strung too tight to be up this late and she slumped in the hard plastic chair, eyes glazing over watching the news program playing on the wall mounted television.

 

The nurse led Riley to a white room with an examine table she easily lifted the small boy on to. Tow headed with large tear shined hazel eyes Riley was a darling angel the middle aged nurse clucked over, gently helping him work his broken arm out of his hand-me down play worn pajama top. The doctor chose that moment to walk in and he smiled at the trembling boy.

 

“Well, then, look who’s come for a visit!” His brown eyes focused on Riley’s discolored and swelling arm. “What have you been at, young man?”

 

Riley sniffled angrily. “Hullo, Dr. Carey. Ian shoved me down the stairs! He said I couldn’t make his Transformer work, but Mom said he had to share! He’s mean!” The little blond wailed the last part, not at all afraid of the big doctor or of telling him of his evil older brother.

 

“Hmm, doesn’t he sound like a little demon,” and deserving of punishment for hurting my cherub, Angelus silently added. He smiled at the little boy before speaking to the nurse. “Alice, could you call Sheriff McReedy? Mrs. Finn looked out on her feet in the waiting area. See if he can have one of his boys swing by in an hour to drive them home.”

 

“Of course, doctor,” Alice nodded, obviously agreeing with him. Setting Riley’s shirt at the end of the table she bustled out, not at all concerned to leave them alone. Dr. Carey had been tending to the bumps and bruises of the Finn children since shortly after their fifth one here was born. Angelus turned back to his waiting boy.

 

“And I hope Ian also has a broken arm?” he grinned, letting Riley know he was joking.

 

“Nooo.” The large eyes watched him gently touch the broken limb. “I kicked him though, right in the jewels, like I saw Moira do to Patty McDougal, and he screamed like a little girl and Mom said he didn’t get to come to the clinic. Are you going to stick me with a needle? I don’t want a needle. And look,” the little boy straightened up, taking a couple of deep breaths, “I didn’t lose my breath at all.”

 

“Good, good. And no needle if you’re willing to drink some medicine?” His little childe carefully considered before reluctantly nodding. Angelus smiled and tucked a few errant blond curls behind his small ears. “Good boy. Such bravery will deserve a lolly.”

 

Turning to the counter Angelus poured out a mild sedative painkiller into a small cup, Riley unable to see around the wall of his back. Required to disappear from history, or at least the Watchers’ radar, the quickly bored demon had turned to medicine to entertain himself. Such a promising field of study, with all its shiny and sharp explorations into human anatomy. Angelus had proven gifted, though he disfavored the sterility of the universities. Battlefields were rife with screaming and misery, however, and Americans were a brutal lot, uncaring if their doctors tried out new surgeries on enemy prisoners. It had truly been a calling for him, so much so he’d almost missed the decade he’d estimated his boy’s birth in. 

 

Once he was born he contacted William. He had thought to wait till Riley arrived in Sunnydale to begin his conquest, but William had suggested differently. His boy was stubborn. If he could bond the child to him now, claiming him later would be easier. The decision then was simply how to craft his person, showing his skill as a powerful master vampire in aging his appearance until he was a handsome older doctor, perfectly respectable to be tending to small children. The head of his Order could do as much, though Angelus hadn’t the faintest why the old geezer wanted to look like a desiccated corpse. It amused him that his own sire, centuries older than him, could not master the skill. Just one more weakness among her many.

 

Holding his hand over the cup he sliced open his middle finger with a swipe of a nail right where the digit met the palm. His blood would help heal the broken bone quicker and for a child as small as his boy he’d be drowsy for the next day or so from the vampiric infusion, easily explained away with the painkillers he‘d prescribe. Without any claiming marks he needed to regularly douse the boy to maintain his tenuous influence. Since his first check up at six months Angelus had been feeding him small rations of his blood, allowing the master vampire to influence his dreams and speak to him in his head at times. It was not an uncommon game for vampires though usually they fed the children nightmares until their fragile minds snapped. 

 

His cherub had no intimacy with nightmares.

 

“Drink up!” Dr. Carey grinned, flourishing a lollipop in the boy’s favorite green color in his other hand.

*

 

Though Dr. Carey had given his Mom pills for his arm, the pain still followed Riley into sleep. He was sandwiched between his two older sisters in their double sized pink bed to keep him from rolling around. At his whimper of distress eight year old Elaine put an arm over his stomach without waking, kissing the top of his head and mumbling.

 

//Shhh, childe, no hurts here.// Riley gasped as the red laced darkness about him melted away into the bright lights of a circus. He was standing in front of a large red and yellow striped tent that filled his vision. Other children were walking past him through the entrance, laughing and calling for him to come along. Old fashioned music like his grandma listened to was playing and he didn’t think when he reached for the hand of the boy standing next to him. ~Liam~ his mind whispered and the taller boy smiled.

 

“Come on, we don’t want to miss the elephants,” Liam cried, tugging Riley after him under the big top. Happily, Riley went, knowing nothing bad could happen when Liam was with him. Liam was perfect. He was everything.

 

TBC.


	3. Chapter 3

Sunnydale. A few years before.

 

The man should have stood out in the maternity ward, with his shocking white blond hair and all black attire, but he was polite to the night nurses and had the most charming British accent that none of them could summon the discipline to enforce the hospital‘s visitation policies. Though no one seemed to know where the expectant father-to-be belonged, his charm and anxious excitement forgave much. For most of the night he stood at the glass partition that separated the newborns from their families, his attention never wavering from one labeled bassinet. Come morning the man was gone and no one could really say what he had looked like. No, he was forgotten by everyone as soon as he vanished, but for one babe that could not be soothed from his crying for which his mother complained just as loudly.

 

“’So, merry little roll of fat,

Made warm to kiss and smooth to pat

And round to toy with, like a cub,

To put one’s nozzle in and rub,

My god to laugh with,

Love to chaff with,

Come and dance beneath the sky,

You and I!

Look out with those round wondering eyes,

And squirm, and gurgle - and grow wise!’” William whispered before he forced himself to leave, smiling into the bright dark eyes that watched him so intently. “Welcome home, my love.”

 

***

With a population under two thousand Huxley, Iowa was incapable of long sustaining a healthy vampire population. More of a drive-thru kind of town, but since Angelus quietly took up residence Huxley’s population grew by nearly a third, though not all of her new denizens paid taxes. With the state’s capital Des Moines only a half hour away those Huxley citizens requiring more sustenance than the town’s one grocery store provided were easily able to make the commute. The Master of Des Moines and his court who proved loyal died at the hand of the Scourge of Europe, leaving a void Angelus’ people easily filled. The Watchers made detailed record of Angelus’ cruelty, and that he certainly had in abundance when provoked, but paid little attention to any of his other behaviors. Mention was made of his court, bafflement at the sheer size and demonic diversity, but not one of their demonologists could offer a feasible theory. Why would relatively passive, non-aggressive demons want to live under the rule of the Scourge of Europe? Yet they did, hundreds of them. Angelus traveled alone to Huxley and maintained a low profile, yet his loyal court found him all the same. In small numbers they moved to Huxley, to Des Moines and other surrounding towns. They relied on the protection of the Scourge of Europe. They did not know why their court moved to Iowa. They did not care. Their master acknowledged them, brought several of the clans into his confidence. Their master was hunting and it was their responsibility to safeguard the hunting ground and, if need be, the prey.

 

*

1986.

 

The Southern Story county fair was a riot of noise and light the country music blasting over the loudspeakers barely drowning out the cacophony of a couple thousand people pressed into one large open field. The fair was set up right at the edge of Huxley’s town limits, the flashing and strobing lights from the dozens of rides easily seen for miles. Rides, games, funnel cake, none of it changed from year to year but it was a great way to the mark the end of the school year and the start of summer break.

 

This year was even better for the seven Finn children, their father’s leave coinciding with the annual fair. Soldiering was in the Finn blood and none of the children whined at missing their father, though the older ones had started to notice their mother’s droop right before her Dean left again. It was exciting, jumping around their big Marine of a Dad, hyped up on cotton candy and too much soda pop. In the crush of the crowd and so many eager voices screaming for attention it was too easy to lose one shy little voice. Jostled and shoved about Riley bit his lip to find himself quickly separated from his family. Looking wildly around he opened his mouth to shout for his Mom, but all he could see were peoples’ legs. His call died in his throat and he slowly tried backing up, refusing to cry when bodies bumped into him, unthinking hands shoving him out of the way.

 

The crowd parted around one of the rides and Riley’s head thumped into its grimy side. Ducking, he crawled underneath, litter and muddied grass squelching under his sneakers. He kicked a neon orange rabbit that looked like the one Daddy had won for Brigit and crossed out to the other side. He didn’t care about Daddy giving Brigit the rabbit, but he wished for a miniature basketball like Patrick had won all on his own. That basketball was cool, way cooler than some dumb rabbit. He was standing alone between two rides, the ground thick with electrical cables. The one end was blocked but at the other he could see people moving and headed that way, hoping to catch sight of his family.

 

Standing in the gap the little boy craned his neck, trying to see his tall Dad or his Mom’s red hair. Nothing and he clenched his fists, refusing to cry like a baby. The air moved over his head before he heard a thump, a muffled cry, and he whirled around, but there was nothing behind him. He frowned at the piles of cables. Was that how they’d looked earlier?

 

“Oi, what are you doing alone, bit?” A skinny man asked as he crouched in front of the seven year old. He was dressed all in black and smoking a cigarette, a red balloon crown perched on his curly white hair. Riley smiled at his funny appearance, forgetting all about the weird noises, but stubbornly shook his head, knowing he was in enough trouble as it was. The man stared at him for a long minute before he got it. “That’s right, innit, you lil’ bits ain’t supposed to talk to strangers, are ya?” Riley nodded, smiling again shyly when the man nodded with him. “Fine then.” A finger waggled at him, bracelets jangling. “No talking and no moving, ya hear?”

 

The man vanished into the crowd. Somehow, Riley felt more alone and fidgeted in place, not daring to move now that he’d been told by an adult not to. Glancing over his shoulder he started to see several pairs of luminescent green eyes staring out at him from under the ride he’d just crawled underneath. There was a chittering and shuffling, crunching sound before one set moved closer. Up to the edge of the shadows and Riley could just see . . .something his seven year old mind couldn’t comprehend. A rattling sound and something small rolled out to bump into his shoe: a miniature basketball like Patrick had. When he picked it up there was a louder chittering, kinda happy sounding.

 

“Thanks,” he whispered.

 

“Riley?”

 

The little boy turned to see someone new kneeling in front of him, someone who made him heave a big sigh and gratefully smile. “Dr. Carey.”

 

“Young man, does your mother know you’ve come to the fair by yourself?” The middle-aged man tried to sound stern, but couldn’t hide his dimpled smile. Not with such large, tear shined eyes blinking up at him from that beautiful little elfish face. At the first twitch of his lips Riley rushed into his embrace, ball clutched in one arm as he threw the other around the man’s neck.

 

“Can’t find my Mom and Dad, Dr. Carey,” a little voice whispered into his ear.

 

“Well then, we will find them together, won’t we?” He gave the boy a brief hug before setting him back to critically look him over. His gaze went briefly to the shadows behind the child, but Riley did not see the flicker of enraged gold. “Need to keep better track of you, my little hellion,“ he murmured, then louder, “You weren’t scared being by yourself, were you?”

 

“Only a little,” Riley confessed. “No one could see me and kept trying to step on me. I crawled under one of the rides. That one,” he pointed, “ and then a man with a crown came and talked to me and then I got this ball from these big green eyes and it was the ball I wanted.” He showed Dr. Carey his ball, taking a much needed breath. “See? It’s like a small basketball.”

 

“So I see,” the doctor nodded, practice letting him decipher the gush of words. “They must have thought you were very special to give you a present.” The little boy made to glance back, but a thick finger curled under his pointed little chin, keeping those big eyes on the man he implicitly trusted. “Now, why don’t we get an onion bloom and find your parents before they get too worried?”

 

“Okay,” Riley beamed.

 

“Okay. Up on my shoulders, then.” That was all the invitation Riley needed, swarming up the tall doctor like a monkey up a tree. Thin little legs dangling over his shoulders Dr. Carey stood, one large hand on a delicately boned ankle to help keep the boy’s balance.

 

“Yee-haw!” Riley crowed, heels thumping. 

 

As the doctor and his charge faded into the throng a thin man with a red crown walked up to where the little boy had waited. The shadows chittered as he lit a cigarette. “Wasn’t demons we had to worry about now was it?” Deeper into the unobtrusive, unnoticed gap and he crouched to meet a terrified pair of brown eyes in an all too human face. “Like to follow little lost boys, do ya? Creep up on them from behind?” The man tried to speak, but the black coils constricting him from crown to heel just tightened, making his eyes bulge. Dozens of green eyes blinked in the darkness, malicious and pleased to feel their prey struggle. “Oh, quit yer squirming, yer not dead yet. Master will be wantin’ a word with ya. He’s really gettin’ into this reformation of his.” The shadows rattled. “Yeah, it’s probably just repressed hormones.”

 

*

 

Little over a week later Riley Finn skipped into Dr. Carey’s office, swinging Elaine’s hand for all he was worth. Only two years older and the middle child Elaine was one to act mature beyond her years, faithfully imitating her older sister Moira. Angelus felt for the girl, having two brothers spaced between her and her sisters, and what two older brothers to have! He knew all of the Finn children from the eldest, blossoming Moira, to wee little Brigit, and rather liked the lot, each child beautiful in his and her own way. It possibly explained why he decided to gift them all with his blood, though Riley received the largest infusions. At her physical for softball Angelus had partially marked Moira, rightly worried over the girl’s beauty. Just an Aurelian property mark, but these children were his and he growled to think of some low level demon snatching one away. Thinking about the teenage boys his headstrong girl went to school with was enough. 

 

Patrick and Ian were terrors, attracted to mischief and danger much like his own childe, though without Will’s sweet disposition. He had no inclination to turn either of the twins, though he planned to mark both when their next scheduled exam came around. They reminded him too much of himself, especially Ian. That boy needed a whupping, one harder than Moira usually meted out to keep him in line. The demons that had congregated in the greater Des Moines area because of him wisely steered clear of that child, but Angelus was just waiting. A few more years and he was going to scare that boy straight.

 

Marching into his office hand and hand Elaine smiled and blushed to see him waiting, quite forgetting her adult airs. The child had her mother’s red hair and fair complexion, her elfish bone structure at nine already promising her future beauty. Now this one would make an exquisite addition to his court, the potential to be a powerful master easily seen in the trademark witchy hazel Finn gaze. She was why he’d sent for William, knowing his boy would love to have this girl one day for a childe. The brat was obsessed with the notion of waiting for his Xander to be his first childe, but Xander didn’t have the temperament to be eldest and mate. If William made Xander his first childe, the possessive brat wouldn’t want any others and Will could hardly establish a strong court of his own with only one childe. A Master needed childer, strong childer, and sweet, motherly little Elaine could be the strongest. He’d hoped to show Will the Finn children at the fair, but dealing with that human waste had distracted them. Thinking of that filth daring to try for his pet still made his blood boil. Thank all the dimensions of Hell for Kerrnissii and their psychic prowess. And that they’d decided to go to the fair that night for funnel cake. The little snakes were handy to have around.

 

“Hello, Miss Elaine, Mister Riley,” he cheerfully greeted, kneeling down so that he was at their level. Elaine blushed even more when he kissed the back of her hand, but she stammered out a hello, voice softer than her little brother’s exuberant greeting. “How is my favorite little lady today?”

 

“Fine, Dr. Carey. Riley needs his permission slip signed for Little League.” She reached into the breast of her sun dress and proffered the folded school form. Because of his asthma Riley would need a physician’s permission to play a sport. Then she noticed the man sitting quietly in the corner. “Hello.”

 

Now that she’d spotted him both children looked at the slender man, Riley frowning even as he obediently took the hand Angelus held out. Dressed conservatively in slacks and a button down with a white lab coat William looked the part of a young doctor, right down to his soft brown hair. The other night was the first time Will had met the young Riley Finn, but after this afternoon Angelus had a feeling his childe would be splitting his time between Sunnydale and Iowa.

 

“Elaine, Riley, this is my colleague, Dr. Banks. He’s here to observe. Is your mother in the waiting area?” 

 

“Hello, Dr. Banks,” the two children politely intoned, though Riley was already distracted playing with Angelus’ stethoscope as the disguised vampire lifted his miniscule weight onto an exam table.

 

“She took Connor to the library for a baby book reading. After she said we’re gonna get pizza,” Elaine answered. Angelus nodded that he heard, knowing the library was at the end of the block. Safe enough in a town this small for them to go alone. 

 

William knelt in front of Elaine, smirking when she gave him her hand as she was wont with Angelus. Dutifully he accepted the tiny hand into his much larger one and bussed her knuckles, earning a pleased smile. This one was a princess, alright. “Good afternoon, bit. Aren’t you the prettiest little flower in that dress of yours.” And she was lovely in her green dress, though it was cut a little old fashioned. Maybe a family hand-me down?

 

“I am nine,” Elaine loftily informed him. “My birthday was two months ago. You are British, aren’t you? I can tell. You talk the way they do on that channel we get on satellite. You have a queen. She is very old. I know because I saw her.”

 

Will grinned, charmed, and Angelus turned back to the little boy who was trying to check out his teeth with the stethoscope’s shiny surface. Angelus gently tugged the instrument away, rapping Riley on the top of his head. “Enough of that, mister. Let me look at you.” 

 

“Yes, sir.” Greenish hazel eyes smiled up at him, so very innocent and trusting. Through their shallow bond it was easy enough to roll the nascent mind, those beautiful eyes glazing over. Opening a nearby drawer Angelus withdrew a scalpel and quickly cut his index finger down to the bone. A gentle caress and Riley obediently sucked in his finger, unaware of his actions. The little tongue lapping at his blood hardened his penis painfully and he kissed the top of that bright head.

 

“Sire, she is a peach,” Will said behind him. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Will had not moved but to spread his legs, letting Elaine stand closer. One hand stroked down her slender back, the other gently holding her head to the bleeding slash in his childe’s neck. Elaine’s dainty pink tongue licked up every smearing of blood, glazed eyes as distant and unaware as her brother’s. “Do you think Dru will like her?”

 

“Dru must not know of any of the Finn children. I mean it, Will. Or do you want to see that little girl turned before her time?” Which his mad childe was likely to do, wanting to keep such pretty dolls. She’d done it once before with a set of twins.

 

“No,” Will whispered, lifting a handful of burnished red hair to his nose, inhaling Elaine’s sweet little girl smell, fresh with summer and living free of urban contaminant. “She’s got a whiff of you about her.”

 

“They all do,” Angelus agreed. “A handsome lot, four boys and three girls. Riley will be my mate, but I may add them all to my court.” He saw his childe’s shoulders tense and smiled, refocusing on his cherub who was still greedily swallowing his master’s blood, strengthening their bond. Leaning down, he licked the soft cheek. “Each is unique, exquisite. I am thinking to possess each one as they come of age, train them in their pleasure. Mark them and own them. No other court has ever had an entire set of siblings, at least not so many.”

 

“Even Elaine?” Already attached, Angelus smirked. He knew he could count on his girl. 

 

“She is years older than your whelp. If you want him to be your first childe, then she will be too old. By the time you got around to her, she’d be married and making more little redheaded tots. She deserves proper attention, to be groomed and trained to take her place in a Master’s court.” In the reflection of one of his framed doctorates over the table he watched Will set the little girl back, stroking her hair and staring into those enchanting eyes. His thumb rubbed her chin, most likely cleaning away a spot of blood. As the power of the blood overtook her she swayed forward and Will carefully picked her up, gaze so very tortured. He wanted her, but would he sacrifice his idealistic fantasies to have her?

 

“Elaine has a good head on her shoulders, Will. She would make an excellent eldest childe and second in command.” Moira was college bound, but Elaine? The girl too often thought with her heart instead of her smarts.

 

“She’s strong,” Will said softly, laying her on the other exam table. With utmost care he straightened her dress and smoothed back a few errant curls. Angelus eased his finger from Riley’s mouth almost healed, his own spit quickly sealing the wound. He could feel his boy stronger than ever, feel his thin little chest expand with each breath, the sluggish stirring of his mind. His little boy was beautiful and Angelus wanted him, but with barely any sexual intent. Children really didn’t do it for him: broke too easily and possessed no passions of their own to manipulate and explore. Still, Riley’s blood called him, just as it had centuries ago. Soon.

 

“Sire, can I have her for my first?” William’s question broke into his musings. Pulling a lollipop out his coat pocket Angelus leaned against the table next to his child, weighing Will’s request. It would be nice to have a whole set, but they weren’t exactly a collection of teacups, were they? 

 

“Just remember to be discreet, Will. We can’t get sloppy this close to D Day.” His childe nodded, eyes on the little girl who was waking up. “Here, to take the taste out of her mouth.” Angelus handed him another lollipop.

 

Riley’s eyes blinked and he yawned, taking the candy held out to him and popping it in his mouth without looking. Next to him Dr. Carey was marking all the appropriate boxes on his form, then signing the bottom. It was like a super power, how his doctor always had green lollipops for him. Across the room Elaine was sucking away on a red one and blinking sleepily at Dr. Carey’s friend, telling him all about the dress Gran had made her. Wow, he must have nodded off, not that Dr. Carey ever seemed to mind. Riley leaned against Dr. Carey, his free hand clutching a handful of white coat with unconscious possessiveness. 

 

TBC.

Author’s Note: the poem in the beginning is the last part of a longer piece by Eunice Tietjens. You can find it at http://www.bartleby.com/265/370.html.


	4. Chapter 4

1989.

It was an unbearably hot summer and after their morning chores the Finn children were free to play so long as they stayed out of the grown-ups’ hair, which this year included Moira since she’d graduated high school and was too busy planning for her first semester at Iowa State. At ten Riley was deemed old enough to coral his younger brother and sister, and so long as he had their inhalers they were free to play. He’d decided they’d go to the watering hole but on the way they’d found a large ant mound.

 

//What do you think is going to happen?// An amused voice asked in his head and he shrugged as he accepted the old leaking wooden bucket of water from Connor. Gonna find out, he silently answered. That he was answering a voice in his head didn’t really bother the boy. The voice had always been there and sounded like the friend he often played with in his dreams. Sometimes he wished Liam was real, but then he’d have to share him. //I don’t like sharing.//

 

Try having six brother and sisters, Riley shot back as he carefully poured the water into the ant hill. All I do is share.

 

//Except me. You don’t share me.// Liam sounded pleased and Riley could almost feel invisible arms hug him.

 

Nope. You’re all I have that’s just mine. The ants came bubbling out and Riley laughed over Brigit’s shrieks and Connor’s demanding a go.

 

***

 

Though the fall semester was months away Moira Finn could not begin packing early enough. For the last eleven years of her life she’d had to share her room with her younger sister Elaine, even sleeping in the same bed. She knew there was no way she was going to get a dorm room to herself, but she couldn’t help her excitement. Soon she was going to have her own bed, her own desk, her own space, which meant she needed to extract her belongings from amongst her younger sister’s. They had never really declared areas of the small bedroom off limits to each other though they had fought for space since Elaine was old enough to assert an opinion. It was hard knowing her new room was going to most likely be just as small and that whatever she left behind was going to be claimed by the baby brat when she took her place. Which was why she was sorting her life now.

 

With an old Cosmo spread over her lap Elaine watched from her perch on their bed, sharp eyes noting everything that went into the ‘keep’ pile. It wasn’t like the sisters owned a lot of sissy junk like other girls did, but that made them all the more possessive of what they did have, right down to the last barrette. 

 

“Are you really taking that?” Elaine asked of the Caboodle Moira was holding.

 

“Yes. You have one, remember? I’ll need something to keep my stuff in.”

 

“It’s pretty little girl, don’t you think, for college?” 

 

The older blond critically gave the bright purple and pink organizer a once over. “You’re not getting it, Elaine, so shut it.” 

 

“As if I would want it,” her younger sister huffed, pointedly looking back down at her magazine. Moira tossed the organizer into the ‘keep’ pile and went back to rooting through their closet, impatiently shoving the smaller girl’s clothes out of her way. There was a belt she wanted somewhere in here and she was going to find it if it took her all summer. After a few minutes Elaine focused back on the only thing she could now see of her sister, her bright white capris clad butt. “So do you think Mom is going to give you the talk or is Dad?”

 

“What talk? The ‘don’t be mean to your stupid siblings talk‘?”

 

“No, moron, the, you know, The Talk,” Elaine stressed the last two words, blushing.

 

Moira’s head popped back out to stare at her twelve year old sister. “What do you know about The Talk, pipsqueak?”

 

Elaine’s blush deepened but she soldiered on, her chin lifting. “We have television, you know. I know all about The Talk. Either Mom or Dad have to give it and you better hope it’s not Dad.”

 

Dad would probably give The Talk in full dress uniform and show pictures of what would happen to the guy who touched his little girl. He’d also try to convince her body parts would fall off. Mom would make her go talk to Father McLarin and Moira gave serious thought to which scenario would be worse.

 

She shook her head. “Stop being so dramatic, Lanie. The Talk only works if you haven’t had sex, otherwise it’s just an hour of parents trying to parent. Don’t make such a big deal out it. Yeesh.”

 

“Moira,” Elaine yelped, “you’ve had sex?”

 

Moira’s eyes darted to their closed door. “For crying out loud, keep your voice down, stupid! Do you want to see me grounded till I’m, like, thirty?”

 

“But Moira,” her sister whispered, eyes huge, “you can’t have done IT. You, you’re like seventeen.”

 

“Almost eighteen, and yeah, I did. Don’t make such a big deal out it, brat.” Moira proudly played it cool, but inside she was going all warm and fuzzy in remembrance.

 

Elaine frowned. “Does this guy go to Ballard? Are you like going steady or something? Why haven’t I met him? Is he ugly or what?”

 

Her older sister rolled her eyes, patting at her blond bob. “Stop being so nosy,” she snapped, then sighed when she saw her sister’s mutinous expression, the one that promised eminent tattle-telling if she didn’t spill. “Fine, I’ll dish, but you better keep your mouth shut, hear me?”

 

“Sure,” Elaine readily agreed. “So, do I know him? Did you guys kiss?”

 

“No, you don’t know him. I met him on our senior field trip. His name is Jackson and he’s already in college. We hung out for a couple nights at the end of his spring break. And yes, we kissed. A lot.” 

 

“And you had sex, with a perfect stranger.”

 

“Jackson wasn’t a stranger, we became friends.”

 

“You had sex,” Elaine stubbornly repeated.

 

“Yes, Lanie,” Moira snapped, “we had sex. Lots and lots of sex. Are you happy now?”

 

“You, Moira Finn, are a ho,” her little sister declared, smirking at her slack jawed reaction.

 

She quickly recovered, though, and snatched up the first thing that came to hand to throw at the laughing brat. “You little shit! I am not!”

 

Elaine nimbly dodged, scrambling off the bed and running for the door. “You throw another shoe at me and I’m telling Mom you’re a slut!”

 

“You do,” Moira screamed after her as she fled, “and I’m telling her what you called me!” She slammed the door and wished for a lock to keep the horrible brat out for good, but their parents had always adamantly refused locks on any of the bedrooms or the one bathroom, no matter how many times the twins had humiliated her with their shit. Oh, she couldn’t wait for college! No more brats, no more having to baby-sit said brats, no more being embarrassed by them at school, no more having to share her stuff with her younger sisters, no more immature teasing about her breasts by her brothers, no more any of it. They’d be lucky if she came home for winter break.

 

Walking over to the vanity dresser she tugged on her capris, pulling them down enough to expose her hips. She hadn’t told Elaine everything she had done on her senior trip and had actually been going through great lengths to keep this detail a secret from her nosy siblings and strict parents. Smiling dreamily she traced a finger over the swirls of the stylized ‘A’ adorning her hip. She’d been pretty drunk when Jackson had talked her into getting it, drunk and sated from hours of his extraordinary prowess between the sheets, but she didn’t regret it at all. From their first night when Jackson took her virginity to their last when she agreed to the tat Jackson had been considerate, respectful and adamantly clear of how far his interests went. Friendship with benefits. 

 

The tattoo matched Jackson’s, though done on a smaller scale. The skin beneath was dark, like a shallow bruise. Considering they’d both been drunk at the time, they figured the artist must have messed up. She even had two bumpy needle scars to back up the theory, but the ‘A’ was clear to see, the ink shiny against her satiny skin. Moira still didn’t know why she’d picked Jackson’s tattoo to copy, but she liked it. She knew too many girls who’d given it up for boyfriends promising love who were just horny and were gone the next week. Jackson had told her she was special, had made her feel special, but hadn’t promised anything beyond a mutual good time. Wearing his tattoo, it was like she still had a part of him, had that pleasure forever etched into her flesh. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed to talk about Jackson. For the first time in her life, like a promise of what was to come, she’d been treated and had acted like a woman. She felt like she could take on the world and whenever that feeling faded all she had to do was touch Jackson’s tattoo. Such warmth and satiation, it was so tempting to just lie on the bed and rub the erogenous patch, touch herself until remembered heat and pleasure came back to her.

 

Very tempting, but she’d be nuts to try for any privacy in this house. Knowing her luck, the twins would get pictures and plaster them all over the school. Or Mom would have chosen today to invite Father McLarin for dinner. Laughing softly at that image, she tugged her pants back into place. Maybe she’d get a roommate who’d live in the library. 

 

***

 

In retrospect, curled around his twin in this dark place, Patrick had known better. By the pain radiating up from his sore ass, he had known better, but since practically the day they’d come squalling into the world he could never deny his brother anything. Anything at all.

*

The plan was brilliant, but if they were going to get that much skunk piss to spray that asshole Reed Hillerman’s house in, they’d need money they didn’t have. Just a couple hundred dollars and then Ian remembered Allison Sween saying her dad always kept some cash at his hardware store, in his office at the back of the building, to pay the boys who brought in fresh bait every week. Patrick had opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything, knowing Ian would rather break Mr. Sween’s office window and steal the money rather than dig in riverbank muck for hours. Hell, they could have gotten any of the brats to do it; Riley and Connor were always in the mud, but that wasn’t the point. Ian wanted the excitement, the thrill of pushing things farther than they’d ever taken them. So Patrick got down on his knees behind Sween Hardware and boosted his brother up to the small window.

 

“A little higher, Pat,” Ian prodded, straining to reach the window’s sill. Beneath him Patrick grunted, wobbled, and found the muscle to lift his twin a little higher. Had Ian always been this heavy? Maybe they should have gotten one of the squeaks, but that had been another of his suggestions Ian had shot down, counting each one off on his fingers. Elaine would have ratted on them in a heartbeat just because, Riley was so goody-two shoes it was amazing they were actually related, Connor would have blackmailed them for the next decade and Bridge? The baby brat would have got them caught for sure with her diarrhea mouth. Moira never even came up, both boys knowing their older sister would have smacked them till their ears rang for even thinking that someone as perfect as her would be caught dead hanging around a hardware store, at any time of day. Five siblings and not a one of them was of any use in having a good time.

 

“Got it!” His brother quietly crowed and Patrick huffed a sigh that exploded out of him as he was abruptly grabbed and thrown to the ground. “Wha?!” Ian cried, suddenly finding himself dangling by his fingertips.

 

Patrick landed face first on the filthy pavement, but quickly scrambled up, thinking it was the cops or maybe some older kids. He didn’t stay on his feet long. Something big rushed at him, slamming him into the side of the building. Stars exploded in his head and he slumped to the ground, sinking slowly into painless black.

 

“NO! Get the fuck away from him!” Ian took the risk, dropping to the ground over ten feet below to rush to the brother’s side. A flare of pain went up from his right ankle but he ignored it, charging the guy leaning over his twin. At the last minute the man turned, his large hand catching Ian about the throat and lifting him into the air. The teenager gave an inarticulate cry and flailed at the arm holding him, but the fucker didn’t even flinch. In the darkness of the alley Ian couldn’t see the guy’s face but he was fucking huge and when he tilted his head to meet the boy’s scared glare his eyes were glowing yellow. 

 

Ian gasped and struggled all the harder, feet uselessly kicking. Guy was a fucking monster, some scary ass shithead who was going to eat them and Ian hollered for help, for the damn cops, for anybody in the rolled up town. All his efforts got was a hard shake and his throat squeezed so hard his voice choked off into a pathetic gurgle.

 

“Quit your bleating, brat, or do you want me to kill you first?” The fucker growled.

 

“No, please don’t, it was just a joke!” Ian begged. “Patrick didn’t want to, it was just for fun!”

 

“Fun?” The guy barked. “You are riding my last bloody nerve! You think it’s fun to risk putting your pretty ass and your brother’s in a jail cell? I should drain you now and rid myself of your nuisance! You want to have some fun?” He roared, his voice deeper and scarier than their dad’s had ever been. It hit Ian like a physical blow and if he’d been able he’d have dropped to his knees. As it was he didn’t even notice the warmth spreading in his crotch, convinced he was about to die.

 

“Please,” the teenager gasped, unable to articulate anything else.

 

“You need to learn to beg your master properly,” the monster growled, “and you will. Since everything is about having fun with you, we’re going to play a game. A treasure hunt.” A white square of paper appeared in his other hand, lifted into Ian’s eyesight before it was crammed down the front of his jeans. “On your own, with no help from anyone, you will come to this address. You have three days. You cannot talk to anyone, write messages, nothing. If you do, the game is forfeit, and I will know if you try. If in the three days, you make it to the address, then the treasure will be yours after you properly beg for it.”

 

Abruptly released Ian fell on his ass hard. Blind instinct made him scramble backwards, away from the fucker towering over him and inadvertently into a small patch of moonlight that had made it’s way into the alley. “Treasure hunt?” he dumbly repeated, confused. Why the hell was he going to do anything this monster told him to do?

 

“Time to find out who you value more, little boy.” Ian screamed as the fucker revealed himself, leaning down to hiss right into his face, monstrous visage and huge ass fangs cast in sharp relief. Vampire! His mind screamed but nothing came out of his frozen vocal chords as a large clawed hand tapped him on the forehead. “Three days.”

 

And like that, he was gone. The alley behind Sween Hardware was completely silent but for his rapid panting. They’d been jumped by a vampire, like right out of Lost Boys, a real live fucking vampire, with the fangs, yellow eyes, scrunched up forehead, the works. He could have sucked them dry and it scared the sixteen year old to a depth he’d never before felt to realize just how close they had come to dying. 

 

“Oh God, oh God, that was close, too fucking close,” he breathed. Time to get the hell out of here, before Mr. Fangy changed his mind and came back. “Patrick, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

 

No answer and halfway to his knees, Ian froze. It was really quiet in the alley. “Patrick?” It’s dead quiet, he thought, but then mentally slapped himself. Not dead, can’t be dead. “Patrick, you better fucking answer me right fucking now!”

 

No, no, this wasn’t happening, but as Ian staggered to his feet and searched the alley where he’d last seen his twin it started to sink in. Patrick would have never left him to face that guy alone. Never. Breath hitching as it started to all make horrible sense Ian shoved his hand down the front of his jeans, madly searching for that piece of paper the vampire had held.

 

Des Moines. Treasure hunt. No cops, no telling Mom, no help from anyone, and he had three days. Three days to travel over thirty miles and find the treasure. To find Patrick.

 

TBC.

 

Author’s Note: Sorry there wasn’t a lot of Riley in this one, but I like the siblings I’ve created for him.


	5. Chapter 5

They came to New York in 1973. It was a lovely town, rich in life and corruption, so full of misery and torment Drusilla never quite came down from its high. Spikey was hunting, nose to the ground and mumbling about too much crack in the sidewalks and slipping time. He was most amusing going on about it, about little boys, kittens and their missing Daddy. They were here to look for Daddy though Spike said in that sideways way of his that with the Master up and into the air who cared where Daddy had gone? The Dark Lady did and though she ignored them most of the time she would occasionally circle around, smelling sharply of want and nasty things that made Drusilla have nightmares for weeks after. Her William would try to soothe her, would even put a play on with her dolls, but she noticed the way he watched her. Her William didn’t trust his Princess, not when Mumsy was about. So afraid she was going to tell their grand-sire about his kitten and Daddy’s Glass.

 

When Spike killed the Slayer he brought her a glass of warm blood, straight from the heart as it pumped its last. Snapping the neck will let you do that if you have the trick. A good-bye present of a sorts as he faded from her awareness shortly after. Her William did not leave her alone, but she could barely hear the minions that circled like crows, cawing faintly beneath the cacophony of the stars. They sang to her such sweet sonnets. Before her hollow Spike and his kitten had tumbled out of that dried teacup the stars had been screeching at her, upset at what was coming, at the thick spoilt blood that had been filling their house. So close, so close, but now Daddy was making Glass and she knew, she knew they were all supposed to stay quiet. Shades of Glass were filling up the teacup, but Daddy didn’t mind. The sparkliest was already swallowed down. So she stayed in her dark little town with her dark little birds and waited for her William to come back from taking his kitten for walkies. Waited and watched. Time was mean if you didn’t watch it. Just look what it had done to Miss Edith’s dress.

 

***

 

The heavy metal black door banged open, admitting the hulking figures of two demons casually dragging a small body between them. The vast chamber echoed their heavy footsteps, the crowd that easily numbered in the hundreds peeling away to let them carry their burden to the far end of the long stretch of pale blue tile. The room was heavy with shadows, the few lights far overhead in the metal rafters absorbing into the blue walls rather than reflecting, fostering an even greater illusion of space. There were no windows, but most of the denizens could see clearly in the dim lighting. Against the far wall was a raised platform wide enough for several people to comfortably stand on, with an expensively brocaded chair reminiscent of centuries past placed in the middle. 

 

The man sitting sprawled in the wide chair watched the demons approach with a remote expression. Stopping several feet from the platform the two bowed, and at his hand gesture, dropped their delivery. The body groaned and shifted a little, but didn’t do more than that. Caked in mud and reeking of urine, sweat, blood and the bitter odor of automobile exhaust it was difficult to make out any distinguishing features, but beneath all of this failure was a scent that had imprinted itself over the last two decades. Beneath the cloying odors of despair and pain was the indelible musk of a Finn, calling strongly to their master. No matter their conscious, illusionary independence, each and every single one of the Finn children belonged to the Order of Aurelius. The youngest three were redolent with this ownership, minds and souls fettered to their tainted blood. The oldest three, having lived some short years free of their master’s yoke, required more focused attention to bring them to heel. The eldest had succumbed to laughter and friendship, sweetly wooed and lightly marked, her master thinking of the future children to come. The twins, however, had plainly suffered from a sporadic father and no other strong influence to curb their reckless, foolish wildness. Some children needed a heavy hand to grow strong.

 

“Well?” Angelus said drolly, swinging a leg over the side of the thickly padded armchair. A trembling hand grabbed hold of his expensive loafer, but the vampire ignored the contact.

 

“Got about a quarter mile outside of town before his ankle gave,” the demon on the left answered. “Passed out and fell into a ditch. Laid there for three hours or so. Tried to get back up but that ankle’s a ripe peach.”

 

“Did he call out for help?”

 

“No, sir. Cried some, but never made a wordy peep.”

 

“Let him lay there the night like you ordered, my lord,” volunteered the demon on the right. “Collected him up in the morning and brought him straight here.” 

 

Angelus nodded, hooded gaze focused on the filthy body griming his floor. “Ian. You have failed your twin.”

 

The thin shoulders spasmed, the abraded and dirt crusted hands curled into useless fists and slowly the teenager pushed himself onto his elbows. His head did not lift more than a few inches, but Angelus could see the fresh tears marking his cheeks. “please don’t hurt my brother,” the choked voice rasped faintly, trying to beg for what his foolishness had lost. “whatever you want, I’ll do it. please, mister, let my brother go and I’ll do anything you want.”

 

The sudden action of Angelus swinging to his feet had Ian jerking his head up with an inarticulate sound of fear. Keeping his eyes locked on those frightened hazel orbs the vampire held his hand out to the side and was not disappointed when a smaller hand settled into his own, the figure that had been huddled into the shadows of his chair obediently unfolding into the weak light. The dark gold expanse of nudity caught Ian’s attention and his breath hitched to see his twin. Patrick was unclothed but for the heavy collar about his neck, unmarked but from the bruises he’d acquired in the alley and a new, purplish blemish that stained the inside of his left wrist. His attention on his twin was slightly vacant, but he smiled at the sight of him, his rolled mind clearing enough to recognize the face near identical to his own.

 

“Ian,” he said softly.

 

“Patrick, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ian cried, watching the vampire step down off the platform with Patrick a step behind.

 

A tall man stepped out of the watching crowd and accepted the collared youth when Angelus handed him off. Back to front the man gently clasped Patrick about the ribs, nuzzling into his throat. The twins did not look away from each other, one gaze distant and the other terrified. Angelus dropped into a crouch before Ian.

 

“It’s time to learn the cost of failure, Ian. If you had made your way here on your own then Patrick would be yours. But you didn’t, did you? Patrick now belongs to me, Master Angelus. Should I kill him, Ian? Should I kill him quickly or have him gang raped first? Should I take off body parts, one by one, until he goes into shock? Suffocation? Disembowelment? Tell me, Ian. Tell me how your sweet twin deserves to die.”

 

“No, please, please, m-Master Angelus, don’t kill Patrick! Kill me, kill me but Patrick, he didn‘t fail, he doesn‘t deserve to die!” Ian was babbling, but he couldn’t look away from his brother, afraid each breath was his last. 

 

“Do you deserve to die, Ian?” Angelus quietly asked, watching that last little piece of resistance to his dominion break off inside the boy.

 

“Yes,” the boy gasped.

 

“And why do you deserve to die, Ian?”

 

“Because I failed Patrick!” Ian sobbed, collapsing back onto the floor.

 

Now they couldn’t have anyone missing the show. Angelus grimaced, but took a handful of filthy hair and yanked the boy up onto his knees. “You did indeed fail Patrick and you need to learn, little boy, every failure, every victory, has consequences. The man holding your brother is named Alessandro. He is a werewolf, a very old and powerful werewolf. I was going to let him eat your brother, but since you have begged so nicely, I shall let him infect Patrick instead.”

 

“No, no, no, no,” Ian chanted the word over and over, too weak to struggle from the painful clutch at his hair, wide eyes locked on the man licking his twin’s throat, his shoulder. When the man, Alessandro, suddenly changed, suddenly grew into a wolfish monster like out of one of their comic books, Ian screamed. The slavering jagged tooth maw closed over Patrick’s shoulder with the most horrible noise and his twin screamed again. Blood and clear fluid ran down Patrick’s chest and Ian heaved, ripping free to vomit across the tile floor.

 

Angelus left him there, gaining his feet to walk the few steps to the entranced twin. As quickly as he had changed to execute the bite Alessandro had changed back, softly rumbling as he licked the blood and werewolf spittle from the youth’s back, whispering praise and endearments for Patrick being so very brave. Shifting into gameface Angelus started on his front, hands gentle where he placed them beneath the werewolf alpha’s. Patrick floated between them, the pain as distant as his master had promised, barely felt over the arousing sensations of being held and tended to. When the two masters stepped back the horrible bite was closed and looking months old. With a last touch to his newest pack brother Alessandro faded back into the crowd.

 

Another servant handed Angelus a collar identical to Patrick’s, with a two foot lead attached. Putting the collar into the boy’s keeping the master vampire carefully guided him over to his twin. Ian was dry heaving and sobbing, hunched over his knees as he mindlessly rocked himself. There wasn’t much left to the boy, but what there was Patrick would soon mold to his likeness. Ian was the brash, headstrong loud mouth of the two, but it was always quieter Patrick who had possessed the strength to see his twin safely through. It was for that strength Angelus had taken Patrick first, knowing if their roles had been reversed, Patrick would have moved the world to make it to his brother. As it was he had surrendered his self, willingly and without protest, to guarantee Ian’s life. 

 

A nudge of his shoe had Ian crying out and scrambling away, but the boy did not get far with his two babysitters standing right behind him. Fetching up against their legs Ian wailed, mindless until Patrick stepped into his sight, as calm as ever. “P- P-Patrick?” Ian stammered.

 

“For the three nights of the full moon every month your twin shall be taken from you,” Angelus said ruthlessly. “Every month you shall be reminded of your failure to save your brother. Unless you are willing to share his curse?”

 

Ian stared at him dumbly before his shell shocked eyes went to his twin. “Curse?”

 

“Bond to your brother and you can take the curse for him. You would share the burden of the full moon.” 

 

“Patrick . . . Why couldn’t you just infect me? He doesn’t deserve this.”

 

“Because you failed. Now decide. Share your brother’s curse or leave this place alone.”

 

That was unacceptable and Angelus smiled to see the boy’s back stiffen. “No. I . . .he’s mine and I don’t care what you do to us, you can’t have him. I’ll share this curse. I’ll change every month so Patrick won’t have to.”

 

Oh, foolish little boy, that wasn’t how the magic worked, but Angelus wasn’t going to enlighten him. In a few years, when the wolf had wholly become a part of them both it wouldn’t matter anyway. Patrick was his and very soon he’d have the set. “Then claim your brother and take on his curse.”

 

It was the cue Patrick had waited for and his grip on the collar in his hands was white knuckled as he stepped forward. The two demons at his back quickly lifted Ian into the air and stripped him of the rags of his clothing, their claws leaving him bare in seconds. Before he could protest Patrick handed one the collar that matched his own and Ian’s was securely buckled into place. Monstrous fingers delicately handled the dangling end of the short lead, clipping it onto Patrick’s collar so that when they dropped Ian to the floor his twin followed him down.

 

Though the sudden jarring of his ankle made him whiten Ian hugged Patrick to him, seating his brother in his lap. An embrace Patrick returned, though with far more intent. Ian gave a muffled yelp when Patrick kissed him as he had been taught in just the few hours before, his mouth claiming his twin’s fully. After a brief struggle Ian hesitantly started to kiss back, eyes falling shut. Patrick’s stayed open, however, clearing of their clouds as he rubbed against his brother, stroked his back and sides. When a tentative hand brushed over his smooth shoulder he hummed in approval, encouraging his twin to touch him, learn him in ways they had never known.

 

It did not take two sixteen year olds long become aroused, no matter having an audience or physical exhaustion. Patrick’s organ had swelled as soon as Ian had begun to reciprocate the kiss, Ian unable to resist the friction of his twin’s muscular ass cheeks pressing and undulating against his bared crotch. 

 

“This is wrong,” Ian gasped, clutching the sweet smelling body in his arms all the tighter despite his denial. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Pat.”

 

Reaching beneath him Patrick fondled the turgid length he found, luring it into position. “I love you, Ian,” he whispered against his twin’s lips, tongue licking away his innocent tears as he lifted up and sat back on Ian’s cock. His entrance fluttered, spasmed, but Angelus had stretched and lubricated his rectum for just this moment, and after an initial resistance Patrick‘s body surrendered. The twins cried out as they fully joined, Ian thrusting up into Patrick’s heated sheath with uncontrolled passion. A strobe of light passed from Patrick’s collar, down the metal lead and into Ian’s, though neither noticed the spell’s completion. A scar identical to Patrick’s started to well up from beneath the skin of Ian’s shoulder just as Patrick’s slightly faded.

 

“Shh, no tears,“ Patrick soothed, sliding in his brother’s lap with Lolita confidence, moaning to feel Ian‘s hard length push in and out of him. Only Ian could fill him so perfectly. It hurt, but it also felt more intense than anything the youth had ever known. Then Ian accidentally bumped into something deep and stars exploded inside of him. 

 

“Patrick,” Ian gasped, his twin’s name the only word he seemed capable of. His thighs flexing and bunching Patrick was fucking himself on Ian’s cock and Ian realized he wanted to move, to take what his twin was giving. Warily putting his hands on Patrick’s bony hips he started to help his brother to move, thrusting his own hips harder. It seemed the right thing to do because Patrick moaned in the most beautiful way and wound his arms around Ian’s neck, letting him direct the force of their coupling.

 

Throwing his head back at a particularly brutal surge against his sweet spot Patrick smiled to see Angelus standing behind Ian, watching them with golden eyes. Bending down Patrick whispered in his twin’s ear, lovingly carding those dirty brown locks. “Master loves us, Ian, can’t you tell? He wants us to be together forever. He has made me strong for you.“ 

 

Patrick was the means to control Ian and all Patrick had ever wanted was his twin. It was his deepest, most shameful secret and Angelus forgave him for it with a gentle caress of his cheek. “Come now, Patrick. Let Ian feel what he had done to you.”

 

No further prompting was needed. With a high pitched wail Patrick came, an orgasm as he had never known at his own hand shaking him hard. Not that Ian would ever let him fall. The clenching around his penis triggered his own release, Ian groaning into his twin’s shoulder as he flooded his bowels with a few short bursts. Ian was still crying, but there was a new awareness is his eyes when Angelus caught his chin and tilted his head back. 

 

“Patrick is your responsibility now, Ian,” Angelus said in his most calming voice, reaching for the boy’s right wrist. Panting sharply and clutching his twin possessively the boy watched dazedly as the vampire shifted faces, fangs lightly scraping. “You are twins and mates, bound for life.” The youth barely flinched at the sinking of canines into the thin skin. Angelus drew heavily, swallowing mouthful after mouthful as he drew on the necessary power to lay his claim. When at last he lifted his mouth he licked the wounds closed, smiling to see a mark matched to Patrick’s. Ian’s eyes were glassy and this time it was Patrick who took his brother’s weight.

 

“Clean them and put them in a room to recover,” he ordered of the two demons who had patiently waited throughout. “Do not separate them.”

 

*

 

In retrospect, curled around his twin in this dark place, Patrick had known better. By the pain radiating up from his sore ass, he had known better, but since practically the day they’d come squalling into the world he could never deny his brother anything. Anything at all. 

 

Reaching up he felt the leash that bound them together, that symbolized their union as mates. Werewolves together. In service to their Master, Angelus. What he had done was wrong, he had known better, but Patrick refused to regret this one thing he had not denied himself. Ian was his. Forever. 

 

The sound of a door opening had him rearing up protectively over his still sleeping twin, but it was just their master. Slowly Patrick relaxed back onto the mattress, nuzzling into Ian’s clean hair to help himself calm. Closing the door behind himself Angelus crossed to the room’s only furniture. Sitting on the edge of the bed the vampire petted each twin in turn, smiling that both, sleeping and waking, moved into his touch.

 

“You two were out by the mines past Mr. Wilson’s stead when Ian fell and sprained his ankle. Mr. Wilson will find you and bring you home,” Angelus softly explained. “Mr. Wilson will not hurt your mother but he will make her believe him.”

 

“He’s a demon,” Patrick put together, somewhat surprised the old man who had been a part of Huxley’s community for what he had thought forever wasn’t even human.

 

“Yes. Your collars must come off, but they will stay here for when you can return.” From his pocket Angelus pulled forth a matching pair of leather cuffs. “To hide your marks and remind you of your commitment to each other.” 

 

Taking one of the cuffs Patrick saw that there was a capital A burned into the inside of the soft leather. On the other side was a quarter moon within a circle. The wolves of Angelus.

 

TBC.


	6. Chapter 6

1994.

The Eagle’s won the state in a night game that went almost to ten o’clock. Almost too late for their coach to take them out in celebration but several of the parents agreed to chaperone, driving the ecstatic fifteen year olds into the city to a youth club. The boys changed out of their baseball jerseys en route, playfully roughhousing until they were free to pile out of the caravan of minivans. Their parents reassured themselves that the club closed at twelve thirty and tomorrow was Saturday. 

 

Riley snatched the French fry out of Josh’s hand to his friend’s indignation before being jostled by Aaron from his other side. The boys were crowded into a semi-circular booth with those not able to squeeze onto the benches perched on the brightly colored table itself. Their parents and coach had taken a nearby table, chatting away while they kept an eye on the swarm of teenagers. Happily munching his French fry Riley kicked his feet and used his other hand to brace himself on the table’s edge as Josh stretched back to grab more fries.

 

The baseball team had claimed a corner on the first floor of the club, looking out at the electric strobing of the dance floor. The place was better lit than an adult club. There were cameras everywhere, their footage playing on a wall of television screens that dominated one wall. The view was open to the ceiling and the slender blond stared up as he absently accepted another fry. The second floor circled the dance floor with its tall clear walls letting him see a different beat of lights and what he thought might be an arcade.

 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he announced, grabbing at Aaron’s wrist. They slipped into the crowd, Josh trailing behind, and let it carry them to a bank of elevators. When no one called out for them the three boys grinned.

 

There was indeed an arcade and Riley almost felt guilty leaving the rest of his team downstairs but Aaron chose Ryu and the game was on. Josh watched for a few minutes till his attention was caught by a classic Pac-Man a few machines down.

 

The two boys played for a while before Riley suddenly shivered. He felt . . .odd, like he was remembering being angry. Glancing around he started when he couldn’t immediately see Josh. His friend had just been a few games away but there was another kid at the Pac-Man now.

 

“Where’s Josh?”

 

Aaron shrugged, more interested in pulverizing Vega. “Maybe he had to whiz? Hey, are we still playing or what?”

 

“I’m gonna find Josh.” Another kid pointed him to the back of the arcade for the bathrooms, but the short hallway was roped off for repairs. Frowning, Riley started to turn back, but he stopped at hearing a weird noise coming from behind a door marked ‘employees only’. He couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. This anger was building in the back of his head, a heavy pressure that was starting a pain at his temples. Without giving it another thought he slithered under the barricade and swung open the door.

 

Whatever he was going to say froze in his throat when he saw Josh kissing some girl in the storage room. She had him pressed to the wall and was moving against him in a way that made Riley blush. He’d never seen anything like that and he started to back away when he spied blood trickling from the side of Josh’s mouth. What the?

 

//Riley, go back downstairs and tell one of the parents. Now.// The teenager had never heard his inner voice so separate and angry before, his fear tripling. But he couldn’t leave Josh if he was in trouble. //Riley, obey me!//

 

“Hey,” though it felt like his whole arm was shaking he reached out and tapped the girl’s shoulder. “Josh, do you even know this girl?”

 

The girl glanced back at him with a bloody snarl, revealing impossibly long fangs and a monstrous face. Riley jumped back with a cut off yelp, the cold hand clamping over his mouth from behind muffling his exclamation.

 

“Now don’t scare the food, sweetheart,” a deep, growly voice said over Riley’s head. 

 

“But I like them terrified,” the girl complained. “Makes them taste sweeter.” Over her shoulder Riley could see Josh, blood trickling from his slack mouth, his eyes shut. The girl monster’s hand fisted in his shirt was the only thing keeping him upright. The blond catcher suddenly did not want to see what was holding him.

 

Riley threw his elbow into the man’s gut and kicked back with one foot, squirming for all he was worth. The man laughed and heaved Riley up into the air with an arm around his waist. The teenager’s feet uselessly kicked out and the man buried his face against Riley’s sweat damp neck.

 

“This one smells different. Richer.” Something wet laved his neck and Riley realized the man was licking him! “Uhnmm. Like fucking candy.”

 

“Whatever,” the girl dismissed, turning back to Josh. “They all taste like food to me. Stop trying to romanticize it and just eat the brat.”

 

Riley barely registered the spill of light from the door opening before he was falling to the floor, dust clouding the air. The girl screeched over his head and then more dust coated him. Before he could comprehend he was free hands were grabbing at him and pulling him back up. Covered in dust and half terrified out of his mind he tried to scream, but a mouth was sealed tightly to his and everything went away with a pair of yellow eyes.

*

 

Keeping his entranced childe-to-be tucked under one arm Angelus snagged the other boy, prepared to roll his mind as well, though without the kissing. The brunette teen was limply unconscious, however, though thankfully still alive. It looked as though the minion had been feeding on his tongue. Not very efficient, but they could not have come from a decent House if they couldn’t recognize the flavor of a master vampire in Riley’s musk. He’d almost lost his boy to recently turned minions and he growled. Des Moines was his city and he would have to deal with whoever turned those dust piles without his permission. This should never have happened. Riley should have never been in this room because he’d have died without his master’s intervention.

 

From outside he’d felt Riley’s sudden fear for his friend, somehow sensing the vampires in the club. It had to be Angelus’ blood in the boy making him sensitive. Which meant his friend had most likely died in the original timeline. Or his team had never won. 

 

Riley was flavored with his blood and their link was still strong, but the boy’s mind was no longer so easily controlled as when he’d been a child. He had completely ignored Angelus’ orders and that was intolerable.

 

Setting the other boy back against the wall Angelus gently petted his child’s dusty hair, wishing for a better place to do this. He didn’t have time, however, knowing their chaperones had to be looking for them soon. It would be impossible to explain why middle aged confirmed bachelor Dr. Carey was hanging out at a youth club. 

 

There was vampire ash all over the small room and he finally decided the only clean space was the walls. Putting his boy face first before the wall opposite the one his friend was slumped against Angelus guided his palms to the cool surface, tugging his hips back so that his spine arched, feet spread far apart. Usually expressive hazel eyes glazed over, the blond oblivious to his body and the worshipful touch given to it.

 

More limb than muscle and not yet into his adult height Angelus could still see the promise of his future childe, beautiful in the way half-grown things are, their potential as alluring as their present achievement. The master vampire draped himself over the smaller frame, licking away the other’s taste. The urge to suck, to bite, was strong, but he reined himself in. Only patience would win him this reward. And a showing of cunning that would do his House proud. Seven more years and then he would have eternity to exercise his passions onto this wondrous boy.

 

Reaching down to Riley’s waist he worked open the button and zipper to his jeans. Fifteen year old boys weren’t often inclined to explore their bodies in great detail, but as an athlete Riley did publicly shower and that meant a greater risk of an unexplainable mark being seen and commented on. There were places, however, places he actually preferred to mark a childe. Taking the briefs with the worn denim the vampire bared Riley to just above his spread knees, kneeling as he did so.

 

Slender coltish legs led up to a small round bottom that tempted him to sample. The military would put muscle on his boy’s lanky frame, but he enjoyed what was before him now, kneading the baby soft cheeks. Each filled a hand perfectly and he purred, spreading them to kiss each in turn and then his tiny rosette. Even after almost two centuries he remembered sinking into that tight hole. It made him instantly hard and his sub vocalizations changed pitch, growling out his frustration.

 

The boy’s sex hung between his legs and Angelus mouthed his way lower. He was going to mark Riley in the same place he had first marked William, at the base of his scrotum, over the perineum. So close to his sex organs would tie his sexual pleasure into the claiming mark as well. In time, with training, Riley would only know arousal at his touch. It had been a painful conditioning for William to break, but Angelus planned to never give Riley the opportunity to fall in love with another. Shifting into game face he struck.

 

It was an actual conscious exertion of his powers in creating a claiming mark; the more powerful the vampire the more power invested in the mark, the more control attained. Riley would no longer bear a faint musk of vampire but would reek of him, Angelus, Scourge of Europe. Most of the demon world would be able to sense the marking and know the mortal was valued property. For the rest of his existence Riley would sport a dark discoloration behind his testicles, much like a birth mark but one tied directly to his pleasure center. A mark similar to the one his eldest sister and the twins sported, but a far greater sink of his power. Once he received the second mark Angelus would have a submissive childe.

 

Riley moaned, unaware of his surroundings, but responsive to the blood magic weaving tightly about him. His penis was swelling and he shuddered delicately against Angelus’ buried face. Keeping one hand on his boy’s hip he palmed Riley’s growing erection, stroking it slowly and eliciting a mewling cry. A few moments more and the mark was finished. Pre-come was slicking Angelus’ fist, teenage hormones hurtling Riley to release, and the vampire took hold of his ball sac and bit, sucking down mouthfuls of semen as his boy jerked in dry orgasm.

 

Blood and seed mingled in Angelus’ mouth and his tongue searched every nook for any lingering taste. Tucking his boy back into his jeans the vampire carefully put him to rights. With a last kiss he tipped Riley’s chin up to meet the still entranced gaze. //No more disobedience from you, boy. You need to find your friend, remember?//

 

*

Aaron tried to huddle further into the corner but Josh’s mom wasn’t releasing his arm, lecturing him at full strength about dogs or something. He couldn’t understand what she was so pissed about. It wasn’t like Josh or Riley would have left the club so they had to be somewhere. And wherever it was he hoped they were having a good time because he was so kicking their asses when they turned up.

 

“Holy shit!” One of the other mom’s exclaimed and everyone looked to see Riley helping a bloody and dazed Josh out of the elevator. They were both pale though Riley looked angry. Coach Meeson reached them first, scooping Josh up and carrying him over to his mom, who thankfully let go of Aaron. Mrs. Arentz hugged Riley and gave him a little shake.

 

“You both had us worried half to death, young man! What happened? Where did you disappear to?”

 

“I went looking for Josh when he disappeared out of the arcade,” Riley mumbled, watching the club’s security wiping Josh’s face and neck free of blood. “I found him in a storage room.” The catcher frowned. “I was gonna look for him in the bathroom when this girl came out this door. Smacked me right in the face.” He blushed, shoulders hunching. “When I went in and saw the blood on Josh’s face I think I passed out.”

 

“It’s okay, honey,” Mrs. Arentz assured with another squeeze. “Where’s your inhaler? You probably had an asthma attack.”

 

“Looks like Josh here almost bit his tongue clean through,” the security guard said. “He’s going to need to go to the hospital.” The man glanced back at Riley. “Do you remember what the girl looked like? They shouldn’t have been able to get into that storage room. It’s triple locked to keep you kids out of trouble.”

 

“Well, obviously not locked enough!” Coach Meeson angrily snapped. That seemed to open the floodgates, all the mothers starting to shout at once. For himself, Aaron was grateful to no longer being the center of attention. Glancing over at Riley it looked like his friend was about to have another one of his attacks, face reddening as he started to gasp. Opening his mouth to get the parents’ attention, he shut it when Riley suddenly calmed. Aaron had never seen Riley fight one of his attacks without his inhaler. Josh was making out with chicks and Riley was okay with his asthma? What the hell was going on? Invasion of the body snatchers or what?

 

***

Adjusting the glasses perched on his nose William the Bloody sighed over his neatly typed notes, now wrinkled and marked in red. Next to him Angelus made a vague squiggle that might have been a bunny rabbit or a notation about the Master’s return in Sunnydale sometime estimated in 1998 on the last page of Spike’s memories of events. Really, even if his host had never learned his letters Angelus could have made more than a paltry attempt at bettering himself. He said it went with his ‘doctor’ persona, but William was more of a mind that dyslexia was inheritable from host to demon. His concise timeline now looked like nothing more than the unfortunate victim of a child armed with Lucious Apple Red crayon. 

 

“What’s the last reported location of Darla?” Angelus asked, chewing on the end of his pen.

 

“South America. My minions in New York managed to hide Dru from her fairly easy since she never bothered to imprint either of us.” William sneered, thinking of his grandsire. The woman was pathetic that she couldn’t track her own childe and kept circling rumors of an insane vampire in New York City in the hope of stumbling upon her errant Angelus. A few bribed demons in Chile and the woman had once again fallen for a ruse that was getting boring in its effectiveness. 

 

The response he received was an old one. “Should have cursed her with the soul, the decrepit cunt,” Angelus sulked. It was an old point between them, but that was why his sire kept him around, to rein in his fun when needed.

 

“We will, sire, but we can’t risk such a big change, you know that. Damned bint would more likely than not turn White Hat and bollocks everything up.”

 

Angelus grunted. “You know, for the last decade or so I was thinking of just burying her alive. Thought that was a better plan than the whole traditional flaying, draw and quartering that is meted out to traitors, but now? What do you think of feeding her to the twins? You should see them: the last couple of moons they have really been doing me proud. This staff sergeant was giving their unit grief . . .it was beautiful. Ian even brought me a leg bone.”

 

Werewolves in the military. Surprising that it wasn’t as uncommon as he’d thought. The boys even had proper supervision once all the right people were paid. It should have been harder in this age of science and nosy tests, but there were as many demons gleefully indulging in their mayhem with the full support of the provincial government as there ever was. Was Mankind truly any more civilized from Roman times when just as many atrocities acted in their interests now as then?

 

Still, and William pursed his lips, knowing he needed to get this order of business out of the way so they could conclude this meeting sometime before dawn. He did still want to see his little princess before he headed back to New York. “Sire, now that you’ve marked the boy it’s probably best to stop feeding him yer blood, don’t you think?” Golden eyes slanted his way with clear warning, but William pressed on. “The Initiative might just go into standard testing, but if they don’t Riley cannot show too many unusual markers.” Humans saw what they wanted to see, even when looking into their fancy microscopes. Those odd little anomalies found in a Claimed human’s blood got blamed on dumb shit like low cholesterol and immune deficiencies. But a doctor studying demons might pay closer attention to any discrepancies. Angelus needed to stop now, to lower the vampiric cell count or whatever the fuck it was that showed up in blood tests. William didn’t shop at hospitals with a mind to donate, but he knew there were clans out there who could quote the science at him. He didn’t care but for what it meant to getting to a park in Sunnydale in seven years to meet destiny. William couldn’t regret advising his sire taking a hand in raising his future brother, not when he’d likely have never met Elaine to take as his own, but could the man bloody well focus?

 

“I remember what’s at stake here, Will,” Angelus snapped, “but do you?” William’s jaw dropped, but his sire wasn’t done speaking. “Yes, you and Xander need to travel back in time, but I need to keep my eye on the big picture, namely my empire. You do remember that I am responsible for thousands of demons? I cannot lose my court.”

 

“And Riley?”

 

Angelus smirked, twirling his mangled pen. “You, childe, need to learn to trust your sire and master. We’re not playing penny ante or trying for some ridiculous bid to take over the world. What does it matter if I turn Riley only to make us both servant to another Master? Or are you looking forward to begging for the lives of your childer because we lost our court to a stronger, smarter demon? I am no longer entirely certain what future you see for the House of William the Bloody?”

 

What did he see? William stared down at his notes, gnawing his bottom lip. The last page slid over, Angelus’ fingers ghosting across his own. “I know it is hard to imagine the world differently than how it happened to Spike, but it is already vastly changed. What will soon happen in Sunnydale are the ripples on the surface. Do you get what I’m saying, lad?”

 

A sharp knock interrupted anything William would have said, the wolf king Alessandro stepping into the room with two other werewolves flanking him. “My lord Angelus, are you ready to discuss the takeover of Los Angeles?” 

 

“I never did like that blowhard Henri,” Angelus smiled at his childe’s thunderstruck expression. “I like Des Moines and I can’t rule two cities at once, so Aly here has agreed to share Mastership of LA with him dealing with LA’s day to day problems.”

 

This was his sire’s idea of acting beneath the surface? “Henri of the House of Vasillius is one of the strongest vampires in North America.”

 

“Yes,” Alessandro agreed as he took the seat across from them, his grin showing far too many pointy teeth, “but I control most of the packs below the Canadian border and your sire commands the loyalty of thousands. Between the two of us we can finally unseat one of the oldest powers in America.”

 

William leaned into the larger vampire to hiss into his ear. “And you don’t think a certain bitch won’t notice one of the largest cities in the country coming under new ownership?”

 

“Alessandro will be spearheading the campaign and by the time we are victorious it will be too late for any outside interference to matter. Remember,” and his pen circled a black date on Spike’s timeline, “very soon all good, too weak to resist childer will be called to the Hellmouth to die with the former Master of the House of Aurelius.”

 

William looked at his notes. ‘The souled vampire Angel appears in Sunnydale, CA to make cow-pie eyes with the Slayer, Buffy Summers. The Master and Darla are slain.’

 

 

TBC.

 

Author’s Note: In regards to what Angelus did to Riley, I cannot honestly say whether that would work as I have never attempted it myself. (Talk about a mood killer and if the guy agreed, I’d be checking under his bed.) In the grand scheme of vampires and time travel it just sounded very Angelus. (And if any of my readers can comment from personal experience, whether their own or having chewed on someone else’s, I really don’t want to know. It’s all fun and fictional until someone gets clinical. The same goes for any vamps as well).


	7. Chapter 7

1995

 

The long legged woman quickly ate up the floor, instincts taking her up from the basement to the north wing of her new home. The mansion was too large for her liking, having grown up in the close confines of a lower middle class income family. Odd that she would miss her non-existent privacy now that she had rooms upon empty rooms to lose herself in. The air surrounding the mansion tingled against her skin like a storm was imminent, and knowing it was the heavy magicks that had been cast to hide them did not stop her from glancing every once in a while out the windows. They were here to monitor their enemies, but had to stay hidden themselves. 

 

“Sire?” she called softly stepping into the dark room. He was where she expected to find him, staring out the window that faced south-west. Towards the home of his future mate and her little brother. 

 

“I can’t bear this, princess, I just can’t.” It hurt her to hear his agony, to know her arms were not enough to take away his pain. Coming around his side she nestled into him, purring gently, soothing as much as a childe could soothe its sire. It was not that she didn’t understand his frustration and pain. Abusing and molesting a little kid was a horror story you heard about in the news from towns you never heard of before or your parents warned you to never travel to. To know it was going to happen to someone you loved? To know and be unable to stop it?

 

“Sire,” she whispered, stroking his damp cheek to bring those haunted blue eyes down to her own, “I understand, I do, that you cannot interfere, but what about me? Let me protect your mate.” Let me prove my love to you.

 

 

**

Frank Harris had not always been a bad man, but he had never been a strong one. He blamed his drinking on his parents, his unappreciative bosses, his ugly wife, everyone but himself. When he struck his wife she deserved it, just as his boy did. He’d never wanted kids, he told himself, never wanted any at all. Made the bitch get her tubes tied after she crapped out that piece of trash and wished he’d thought of the idea sooner. Kids were like leeches, sucking away your money and youth. His was damn near useless and quickly learned to shut up and stay out of his way. Ugly little runt, always wanting to stare at him until he’d properly smacked some manners into the brat. Thing was going to eat away all his hard earned wage and what did he, Frank Harris, get in return? Jack shit, that’s what he got.

 

Then the kid got older. Boy lost the baby fat his mother’s fat ass never had and Frank started to think of the trash in different ways. He fucked his wife when he wanted and she laid there and quivered and occasionally would try to touch him if he didn’t snap at her. All he needed was a hole to fuck, but damn she repulsed him at times. Just somewhere to stick it and what had her brat ever done to earn his keep? Nothing, but Frank was, day after frustrated day, starting to think of how he could get some of his back. Coming home he would claim his easy chair in front of the TV, pop a bottle, and watch that small, pert little ass whenever the brat walked past. Thinking about how tight that hole would be compared to his mother’s worn out cunt. Thinking about how he deserved some gratitude.

 

The world owed Frank Harris a lot and right now he prayed to get some of his back. Another lousy fucking day at the sweat shop, on fucking second shift no less, and he tiredly plodded to his car. Parked at the far end of the lot because he could never get to work early and into one of the closer spots. Seniority meant shit to these people. Maybe tonight he’d finally screw up his courage and take some of that ass that was always parading around.

 

Seeing a woman perched on the hood of his car brought Frank up short. He wasn’t even sure if she was real, with her long red hair and skintight micro dress that showed off the longest legs Frank had ever seen up close. She could have come right out of a skin mag if her breasts hadn’t been average. Some damn whore camped out on his car and Frank scowled.

 

“Get off my car, you fucking cu- Unf!” A heeled shoe caught him across the face, nearly snapping his neck and slamming him to the ground as the woman lashed out.

 

“Mind your manners, Mr. Harris!” 

 

Frank rolled over, feeling his jaw, but before he could get up the air exploded out of him, the bitch’s weight dropping onto his stomach. Her hand, impossibly strong for such a skinny whore, clutched his throat and squeezed. Frank choked, eyes widening in genuine fear.

 

The bitch smiled. “Do I have your complete and undivided attention, Mr. Harris?” She laughed at his start, lifting her weight and dragging him into a sitting position. “That’s right, I know who you are. It’s my business to know who you are.” Sharp little nails were cutting into his throat and Frank wheezed, but he couldn’t seem to move his arms. They were dead, like she’d done something to them, and Frank started to move from fear to terror. 

 

He burbled a protest when her other hand suddenly tore open the front of his pants, taking his underwear and leaving his crotch exposed to the chill air. Her dry hand yanked on his penis, her cold greenish brown eyes staring death at him, her voice hard and uncompromising. “You think about sticking this into your little boy, don’t you, Mr. Harris? You think about going into your little boy’s room one night, holding him down on his little bed and raping him, of taking away something precious and sacred.” She yanked hard and Frank cried, the pain making his legs involuntarily jerk. “You are a sick, pathetic man, Mr. Harris. You should love your little boy, be proud of him, but it’s not my job to make you do that. Are you paying attention, Mr. Harris?” 

 

She seemed to want an answer and when he didn’t give one, she twisted her hand on his penis. “Yes!” Frank screamed, feeling like she ripped the skin off his rod. Fire was blazing up from his crotch and he cried harder.

 

“Good. I don’t want to repeat myself. My job, Mr. Harris, is to make sure you never hurt your little boy. Do you want to know how I’m going to do that, Mr. Harris?”

 

“Please,” Frank begged, terrified she was going to rip his tool right off. 

 

Amazingly, she let go of his penis, but the relief was short lived as he felt her sharp nailed hand slipping lower. “We’ve had a very constructive talk, Mr. Harris. I’m sure I can trust you to remember what I’ve said, but I am going to leave you with a reminder.”

 

Frank was panting sharply in dreaded anticipation, but when the pain came he wasn’t ready for it. It was white hot and he couldn’t even scream at first, it was so consuming. The bitch let him go and he fell back to the ground, curling up and sobbing as pain he had never imagined ripped into him. Finally able to move he put a hand between his legs, crying harder when it came back bloody. What the fuck had she done to him?

 

“Mr. Harris. Mr. Harris.” She repeated him name until he looked up at her, standing over him holding a piece of his bloody flesh in her hand.

 

“Wha? What did you do to me?” Frank sobbed, staring in disbelief at what she held in her hand.

 

“I removed one of your testicles, Mr. Harris, as a reminder of our conversation. You will continue to go to work and provide for your family. You will leave your wife and little boy alone. When you feel you can’t do these things, when your sickness starts to grow, you will touch yourself and remember.” She crouched down, her little dress riding up to show her red silk underwear and that wasn‘t a detail Frank would remember till many years later. “This is my job, Mr. Harris. If you hurt your little boy, I will know and I will come back and we will have this conversation again. Do you believe me, Mr. Harris?”

 

“Yes,” Frank whispered, caught by those cold eyes. He believed.

 

He was staring into her eyes when they changed, when her entire face changed to reveal her demonic aspect. Frank paled and his bladder finally surrendered to his fear. Those evil yellow eyes did not look away even as her nose wrinkled. “Good. Have a good evening, Mr. Harris.” Then she stood up and casually walked away, her heels clicking on the pavement long after she was out of his sight. Hearing her might have just been in his head because he could hear those heels when the security guard came and over the wail of the ambulance and even down the halls of the hospital. Every time one of the nurses or doctors said “Mr. Harris” he flinched, hearing her voice, and when his wife and her brat came to the hospital he saw her yellow eyes staring out of the boy’s face. He couldn’t look at the kid, could never look at the brat again because that redheaded bitch haunted him for the rest of his life. 

 

She had taken his flesh, his masculinity, and he would never know she carried it back to her sire. He would never know his testicle was happily dropped into a plastic baggy and frozen, to one day years later be given to his son as a present, a testament to a vampire’s love. Bloody evidence that Elaine of the Order of Aurelius of the House of William would do whatever was asked of her to safeguard the peace of her House. It was how she was raised.

 

***

Shortly after Riley’s birth Dr. Carey had been invited to the Finn’s home for the celebration. He’d thought after four the Finns would be slightly less enthused over one more munchkin, even if it was his, but Dean and Maria Finn truly loved all of their children. The tiredness of pregnancy seemed to wash away from the parents surrounded by family and nearly a quarter of the town. Angelus somehow managed to make most of the children’s birthdays and paid house calls when needed. Though not a regular visitor he was a common enough sight that when Brigit got sick while their mother was away visiting her sister Riley did not hesitate to call. 

 

Though a little anxious at his little sister getting the flu while he was in charge his boy handled himself well, especially after Dr. Carey assured him Brigit had to have contracted the illness days earlier for it to show now. The house felt oddly empty with only three little souls filling it and Angelus smiled as he strolled down the hall from Brigit’s room. If these children were not his the pure devilment of being the wolf let freely amongst the lambs would have tempted him to a spot of fun. But they were his and his normally blithesome youngest was achy and miserable and had wanted cuddles. After assuring the twelve year old that she wasn’t going to lose her pretty singing voice he’d sent her to sleep with a good dose of his blood mixed into her cherry flavored medicine. Little Brigit Finn was truly going to be the end of his sanity and he wondered again if there wasn’t a siren somewhere down the Finn line to produce that one.

 

Connor was in his room, his alone since Elaine had vacated the twins’ old room and Riley had taken the space. Pausing in the open doorway Angelus watched the bright red head studiously bent over his books. In another life Connor would have made an excellent Watcher. In this life his agile, voracious mind was suckled by texts Angelus provided to him through a book seller in Des Moines. Nothing truly dangerous, nothing that would have Connor blowing up the house just yet. Just enough to keep him fed, keep him interested in learning more. Once he appeared back on the radar he would need a skilled witch to keep the Watchers out of his business. 

 

At his soft knock on the open door Connor looked up, casually turning his body so that whoever was in the doorway could not see what he was reading. The stiff shoulders relaxed marginally at seeing him, though Angelus doubted Riley would have harassed him if he’d thought his little brother was doing his homework. “Hi, Dr. Carey. Is Bridge going to be okay?”

 

“She’s going to be fine, just a spot of flu.” Angelus stepped into the small room, running his hand over the spines of the books neatly alphabetized and arranged on their shelf. “I’m going to give you and Riley a booster, just in case you also picked up the flu wherever Brigit did.”

 

The teenager sighed, but gamely rolled up his sleeve. “If she got me sick before my Algebra test she’d gonna wish she was puking because of some bug.”

 

Angelus pulled a syringe out of his coat pocket, re-pocketing the cap as he knelt in front of the boy. Vein easily found and he pinched a nerve in his elbow to deaden the pain as he slid the needle home. Connor didn’t comment on the dark color of the medicine simply because he didn’t have much experience with drugs that came in another color and Angelus again thanked the gods of hell for locating the Finns in such a small town that no one questioned a lower income family having a single physician. 

 

Injected directly into a vein his blood acted quickly. Syringe put away he barely smoothed a plaster over the small puncture before Connor slumped forward into his arms. “It’s okay,” he murmured, lifting the boy up to carry to his bed, “you know this is how medicine hits sometimes. It means its working.”

 

Connor mumbled a sleepy response, but Angelus didn’t bother catching it. Tucking the boy into his bed he pressed a last kiss to his forehead before leaving. Two down and that left his cherub all alone. Trotting silently down the stairs he slipped into the kitchen to watch his boy humming softly to himself at the stove, stirring what smelled like chicken noodle soup. It was the season for sweaters and the teen was wearing his even indoors, the house barely warmer than the outside. Angelus wanted it off. He wanted to see that virile body, finally blushing into grace of manhood. The want to have his childe, to throw away the future, to risk everything and simply take what he had so long waited to possess . . . His eyes glowed gold and he knew he was too close. His mark called to him the same way Riley’s clean, slightly nutmegish scent did. Would it be so dangerous if he played a little?

 

“Making soup, Riley?” The boy jumped at his voice, making a little eeping noise as the spoon he’d held arched a spray of yellow broth through the air before clattering to the floor. Riley spun around and Dr. Carey held up his hands. Beneath the consolatory façade Angelus chortled. Yeah, a little juvenile, but Riley was too cute to not have fun with. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

Mortified and blushing furiously Riley crouched to retrieve his spoon. “Th-that’s okay, Dr. Carey. It’s just so quiet and I didn’t hear you. Is Bridge okay?”

 

“She’s fine.” Curling his hand around the boy’s arm he guided him to his feet and called on his mark. His possession seemed to ripple through the slender form, the witchy hazel eyes darkening to near black. Wanting to have that mouth did not even form into a thought before Riley was moving into him, head tilting to receive his tongue. Tasted a little salty from the soup and Angelus savagely reined himself in, knowing he had to stay gentle, to not bruise or in any way leave a mark that would confuse the boy later. Just a little daydream that would be forgotten shortly after Angelus released him. Soon, he promised himself, he would have his childe’s innocence. It was unthinkable, that someone else could claim it before him. That that someone could be a Slayer. 

 

Riley whimpered and pressed closer at his angered growling, hands petting his flat stomach and muscled chest, instinctively trying to soothe his master’s upset. Such a good childe, so wanting to please, and Angelus loved that in a childe, loved the selfless attention and didn’t he just know this boy would be so giving? Moira was too needy, the twins too selfish but to their other half, Elaine too independent, Connor too smart by half and Brigit just never shut up.

 

“Perfect,” Angelus whispered, letting his noble hearted boy nibble at his throat, strong hands kneading. Darkness swirled about that heart, expressed itself in his aggression in his sports, in the sexual fantasies Liam lead him through in his dreams. Most childer were made with care, groomed and nurtured before their final turning, but few to the degree that Angelus had taken with this one. Though he had acted mainly with anger at Darla he had still spent months on Drusilla and William had lived with him for years before he was ready to be turned. Sires did this with purpose, knowing the more exposure the mortal had to demon kind lessened the trauma at their turning, increasing the chances of retaining more of the original personality. Minions were ravening beasts, demons that annihilated the soul in the possession. Childer like his Will, like his Riley one day, were strengthened by their demon rather than overwhelmed. By first his blood and now the mark Angelus protected those aspects of Riley’s he coveted even as he corrupted others. 

 

“Perfect, my love,” and he let his cherub feel his pleasure even as he turned him back to stove, taking his hand in his larger one and guiding the spoon back to its stirring. Maria would probably be relieved to learn that the good doctor had stayed the night to look after her youngest and wasn’t that a riot. That muscular little backside was warm against his groin and he slid his free hand up underneath the red sweater to feel those defined abdominal muscles shiver at his chilled touch. Riley‘s nose brushed his neck and Angelus nudged him back to his task. How the hell did you know when soup was done? 

 

“Such a good brother you are,” he whispered into a ear. “One day soon I will have all of my Finn children at court, a dynasty that will bring glory to the Aurelius name. And you, my beautiful childe, shall be there at my side.” Or on his lap, in that outfit that dark haired chit had worn chained to the giant slug in that Star Wars movie Will had insisted they watch for ‘research purposes’. Did Xander really expect a two hundred year old vampire to know American popular culture? Hmmm, but the image of Riley in a loincloth chained to his throne had him pressing the teenager more tightly to him.

 

A vampire only possessed so much patience and he was almost out of his. Taking these opportunities to enjoy his future mate, even if Riley wouldn’t remember, was what kept him from tossing the whole plan and just . . .yeah, gotta keep those thoughts bottled tight. Guiding their clasped hands he took a sip of bubbling broth. Bleugh. Needed salt.

 

 

TBC. So, I’m thinking, next chapter, we gotta have some sex. Some good ol’ A/R action before Angelus pops his cap. Let me get working on that (licks lips while rubbing hands gleefully). Bye-bye plot, hello smut.


	8. Chapters 10 & 11

Title: Breathing By Rote

by Scylla Blue

Rating: FRAO -N-17

Paring: Angelus/Riley, Spike/Xander

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Summary: When Xander and Spike get tossed back in time, Angelus gets clued in on his future and decides to do a few things differently.

 

 

Author’s notes: I am an evil person, but it’s not my fault. My Angelus-devil is ravishing my Riley-angel. And before someone asks, I’m assuming Buffy doesn’t see Angel every night, or even every week. He’s a man of m.y.s.t.e.r.y. -cackle-

 

Summary: There’s possessive and then there’s Angelus, who takes everything to new levels. Buffy never stood a chance.

 

Chapter 10

***

 

Gripping the demon Eudoxia’s chin gently Angelus softly ordered, “Change.” The shape shifter blinked and her face rippled, paling into a human skin tone even as her porcupine hair darkened and took on a more human texture. “Good,” the master vampire murmured, stepping back to admire the changes. The shifter’s eyes now exactly matched his own brown shade, her normally bony figure rounded into a more feminine appeal.

 

Sprawled on a couch behind him William looked up from the magazine he was idly flipping to assess his sire’s surrogate. The girl could have passed for his sister, she had so closely mimicked the dark vampire. Considering the denero Angelus was paying her the expectation was nothing less. “She looks a peach, sire.”

 

“Yes, she does,” Angelus smirked, fingers trailing up Eudoxia’s cheek to tuck a lock of almost black hair behind one small ear. “Do you remember your instructions?”

 

The shifter glanced down at the snapshot in her hand, at the handsome human youth grinning back at her from somewhere in America. “Si, senor. Your mark is behind his testículos, I remember. Your chico bonito, he will learn sex with a woman as you want it. Sumiso, si?”

 

“Si. You will be his first woman and I am trusting you in this. My boy is a generous spirit, but he is also a hot blooded soldier. He must be trained to know his place, to receive pleasure as I want it. Damage him in any way, and I will know of it and exact vengeance.” The Scourge of Europe’s face morphed, yellow eyes glaring down at her. “Let him fall in love with you and I will kill you.”

 

Eudoxia’s skeptical expression told him of the chances she gave that, but she nodded anyway.

 

**

 

The motel room’s lights were out, but the glare of the neon sign outside shone brightly through the cheap paper blinds, painting the bed’s occupants in garish, blinking green and red. Sitting up against the headboard Eudoxia meditatively combed her fingers through the human’s shorn hair, her long heavily painted nails lightly scratching at the thin skin. Riley slept as men were wont, spread out over the lumpy mattress and oblivious of the bed’s condition, spent and sated. His skin was lightly sheened with sweat, from their earlier play and the heat of the Argentinean night, an attractive musk that the shifter happily breathed in. The sheets were on the floor, along with the pillows, granting the demon an unobstructed view of the young mortal she had been sleeping with for the last several weeks.

 

The human was going to be sent away soon, off to another posting, and Eudoxia seriously considered the feasibility of following him. Angelus had said his pet was generous, but he had callously not prepared the demon for the boy’s eagerness and consideration. Riley had proved so apt a pupil she wondered at what the vampire feared. Sliding down the mattress with inhuman grace she stretched out on her side, staring intently at the mortal’s sleeping face. His lips were slightly parted, still slightly swollen from earlier kisses, just showing the pearl of his teeth. Ghosting her hand down his back she thought of all the times she had just wanted to forget Angelus’ itinerary, to just enjoy the pleasures of this boy. 

 

Palming one butt cheek her fingers slipped down the crack to smear through the thick oil she had used in massaging his prostate during their coupling. Unlike most American soldados the boy was not hung up on macho ideas of how a man could take his pleasure. She had a sense that Angelus had a hand in that, but it was not her place to wonder who else had played a part in shaping Riley’s innate sensuality. It was her task to train him in his desires with a woman. But it made her smile to fancy knowing this boy again, to imagine a relationship that would see them together come morning.

 

“Apparently I didn’t make my warnings clear enough,” Angelus growled from the foot of the bed. He appeared from nowhere and Eudoxia gave a high pitched squeak and tumbled off the bed with a painful thump. Laying there for a long minute she fought to strangle down her fear, confident the ancient vampire would kill her at the slightest provocation. She needed to appear in control of herself and more, in control of the pet’s training.

 

Springing to her feet she bowed respectively though her heart abruptly tripped. For some reason she had expected Riley to still be asleep. The boy did not seem aware of his vampire marking and she had been forbidden to speak of her demonic nature. Again, it was not her place, but she was surprised to see the pet sitting up, leaning back against the vampire. Angelus was stroking down across his shoulders and tweaking his nipples, smiling as the boy arched and moaned. Watching the master play with his human she belatedly noticed Riley’s eyes were still closed. The boy had not been woken after all.

 

“Senor,” she murmured, “I did not anticipate your coming.”

 

“No, it appears you did not.” Luminescent yellow eyes flicked up to her pale face before returning to their examination of his pet. Riley was gasping softly, face turned into Angelus‘ caging arm as his hips gently undulated, manhood arching for his clenching belly, making Eudoxia wonder what the vampire caused the boy to dream. “Did I interrupt something?” the vampire purred.

 

Angelus had neatly caught her overstepping her bounds, touching his pet without invitation, while the boy slept unaware. What possible excuse could she give? “Your pet is most desirable, senor Angelus. He could tempt the most virtuous and I am but a lowly demon. We are soon to part. I admit my regret that I shall not know him again.”

 

“You are right. After tonight you are never going to look upon my childe again.” The pet slid down the vampire’s front until the prominent bulge of Angelus’ penis in his slacks pressed against his cheek. Long fingers that had generously learned the means to pleasure a woman opened the dark pants, freeing Angelus’ cock to be taken between Riley’s lips. That delicious mouth that had drank between her thighs earlier in the night now opened wide for Angelus’ passion, the youth twisting about to spread out across the sheets. One leg bent, Riley’s pelvis continued to rhythmically undulate in blatant pantomime, his moans around the meat in his mouth telling Eudoxia of his dreams. Watching, the demon felt a flush of heat and wetness in her crotch and colored, knowing the vampire could smell her excitement.

 

“My childe is beautiful, isn’t he?” Angelus purred, gently cupping the back of his pet’s head, guiding and encouraging.

 

“Si, senor,” Eudoxia whispered.

 

“It was important he lose his virginity with women, but this,” and the vampire’s face tightened, the only sign of his climax. Riley choked and jerked a little, but his throat worked to gamely swallow all that it could. Angelus sighed. “This is what he is meant for.”

 

Wet with spit Angelus slipped his penis free and efficiently tucked himself away, keeping one hand under Riley’s chin. With gentle control he guided his pet to his knees, tight muscular bottom offered to his other hand. Angelus fondled his genitals, his mark, rubbed his contracting anus until it eagerly opened. There was no denial to the boy’s training and Eudoxia frowned, not for the first time wondering at her task.

 

“Senor, forgive my boldness, but why must he know a woman at all?” she asked, hoping the vampire’s sharing mood would extend to this, her purpose.

 

Golden eyes flicked briefly up at her before they returned to watching the pet’s writhing. His thumb popped into Riley’s hole, fingers rolling his testicles, and the youth’s back arched as he pressed his face into the moldy mattress, keening. The boy’s cock was purpled and leaking, more angry than she had ever seen it, but he did not come, held by some means Eudoxia could only glory at. Suddenly brutal, Angelus gripped his nape and forced him upright, facing her with his knees spread and his eyes open. Beautiful hazel green eyes that she quite adored, open and seeing her own enraptured expression as he climaxed. “Did you think you were ever left alone with Riley in this room? That I was not always with him?” Semen splattered up onto his stomach and chest, multi-colored from the florescent lights blinking in from the window, and his eyes drifted closed without any acknowledgement of the woman feet away. “Even in the arms of the fairer sex, I control his pleasure.”

 

***

 

Rupert Giles knew his lovely day was shot up the good queen mum’s arse when his insufferably perky Slayer came literally skipping into his ordered domain amidst the plebeian chaos of the American public school. “Giles!” she squealed. The Watcher cum librarian critically eyed the dregs of his tea and turned back to the decanter he kept stashed behind the library’s circular front desk. 

 

“Giles, I met someone last night!” Not to be deterred by his pathetic escape attempt Buffy Summers bounced after him. Coming up on the other side of the high walled counter she flung her upper body, what there was to fling for the petite sixteen year old, onto the heavily varnished wood, arms folded to push herself out even further. Not inclined to ogle the pert little breasts of his charge Giles studiously monitored his life’s blood trickling into his cup. Her next words, however, spoiled his diligent attention and sloshed expensive Earl Grey all over the grimed tiles.

 

“His name is Angel and he helped me defeat these loser vampires, but he’s a vampire too, and I almost staked him, but, get this, he has a soul!” The girl stopped for the pure necessity of breathing, her enraptured gaze blind to her Watcher’s blanched expression. “A major hottie, let me tell you. Gor-geous. Kinda with the angst, but absolutely the most beautiful brown eyes!”

 

Angel. The vampire cursed with a soul was something of an persisting myth among the Watchers. No one had ever seen the vampire but there were those who cobbled together what coincidental evidence there was to defend their belief. All that was truly known was that Angelus, the ringleader of the Scourge of Europe, had disappeared. Abandoned the childer he had till then been devoted to and his growing court. Many believed he’d been vanquished, but no one, human or demon, had ever stepped forward to claim the credit for such an impressive kill. No one had tried to assume his court and it had dispersed into the hundreds that had existed in those turbulent times. 

 

The origin of the rumor of the cursed vampire had never been conclusively decided upon. It was known that his sire, the Aurelian Darla, had expended a sizable fortune over the decades trying to find her beloved childe. She, at least, was convinced he still walked the earth. Giles had never given great consideration to the blarney, but it could be no coincidence that the Master of the Aurelius line was here in Sunnydale to try and open the Hellmouth and now his House’s long absent childe had appeared.

 

Giles sensibly decided he needed something stronger than tea.

 

**

Chaos raged beneath Sunnydale as the Slayer took on the Master’s minions with the help of her new found friends. Friends that included the anguished soul cursed vampire Angel. It was not lost on the large vampire that his childe’s precious boy, his disrespectful, loudmouthed, bumbling Xander Harris, had saved the Slayer’s life. A small detail Will had somehow never thought to mention in all of their planning. A small detail they were going to resolve at his earliest convenience. 

 

But first he had other small matters to tend to. Such as eliminating those who stood in his way to assuming Mastership of the line of Aurelius. Conveniently, bless her little still beating heart, Buffy was going to help him do that. Even as he watched she leapt onto the stage to attack his grandsire, leaving him the pleasure of his bitch of a mommy.

 

“Darla,” he greeted. Her shock at seeing him, the coveted childe she had fruitlessly searched for, was amusing. But not near as entertaining as her expression of pained betrayal right before she exploded into a cloud of dust. Above him Buffy triumphed in her own battle. “The king and his cunt are dead,” Angelus softly intoned. “Long live the king.”

 

Chapter 11

 

Summary: Connor is in a fatal accident and Angel's past comes back to haunt Angelus.

***

 

Buffy was completely enamored by her tragic Angel when she finally got around to introducing him to her breathing friends. Though having met an older Xander before Angelus really couldn’t care to rouse himself out of his alter ego’s dour personality to notice the chit’s schoolmates. Will had driven him to violence countless times with his poetics and soliloquies about his mate and the girls he had grown up with. Briefly meeting the teenager’s resentful gaze Angelus glared right back, feeling his torment of having had to endure decades of a childe in love far outweighed teenage lust for a blonde bint who had the emotional depth of shepherd’s pie. When the boy flushed and looked away Angelus smirked before moving on to the little redhead and the Watcher. Rupert Giles was frowning at him, but Angelus didn’t think the man suspected anything, firmly convinced of what his Council told him about the cursed vampire. The witch briefly held his attention, though he understood she’d yet to start dabbling. The girl deserved watching, soul binding savvy that she was. Spike had been fond of his ‘Red’, in ways he’d been fond of Dru, so much so that Angelus gave her careful scrutiny for any tells of insanity.

 

When Angel came out of the Sunnydale High School surrounded by happily chirping children he was to escort home as the solicitous vampire that he was he immediately scented the demon that was waiting in the shadowed branches of a tree across the street. The scent followed them to each Scooby’s house, patiently waiting till he was alone, until curt permission had been given to reveal itself. To the casual passerby both of the men in the park looked entirely human, acquaintances casually happening upon each other. In truth, Angelus was impressed the fellow could comfortably contain so many tentacles in its human suit, even though the body was on the preferred obese side. The suit itself was remarkably fresh, but that had been one of the conditions for the Yellow to swear him allegiance. Most of the clan was located in his city of San Francisco, but several had relocated to Huxley to watch over his remaining children. To see one of the Yellow here could only mean one thing and Angelus felt his stomach clench.

 

“What is it?” 

 

Besides their viciousness Angelus liked the Yellow for their blunt manner. They didn’t quibble or pontificate or in any way waste their new lord’s time. “An accident. The male child witch was struck by a drunk driver six hours ago.” The Yellow paused, possibly hesitating because of Angelus’ carefully blank face. “It is not good. The mother called another, an older male, and her other males are coming home.”

 

Connor was injured? He’d just turned eighteen two months ago and finally finished the hotrod he’d been fantasizing over since he was old enough to reach the pedals in his mother’s old towncar, built from nothing with the help of his older brothers when they could come around. The boy loved that car. “Was he driving his car?” Angelus asked the question even as he patted himself down for his cellphone. He was Master of Southern California; getting a flight to Iowa in the next twenty minutes wasn’t going to be a problem. He needed to call Will so he could tell Elaine. Needed to call Alessandro so his wolves in the area would know to keep an eye on things. 

 

“Yes,” the Yellow answered shortly, falling in step behind him as he headed for his car. “The other vehicle was much larger. His car, it likely saved his life.”

 

The gas guzzler was a classic, so it probably did. Having supped on his Master’s blood since birth had done the rest, but the boy was still mortal. He could still lose one of his children and he had already lost Dru. Angelus could not think if his intervention had somehow brought Connor to this, because he wasn’t going to allow anything to happen.

 

**

The small medical center in Huxley was not equipped to deal with the severity of Connor’s injuries so he had been helicopter lifted to Des Moines General. On his way to the boy’s room Angelus saw Maria Finn taking her youngest into the bathroom. Both looked like hell, tightening the fist in the vampire’s chest. Three Yellow were standing guard throughout the hall, one even ingeniously dressed as a hospital security officer. Another followed the women into the bathroom after inclining its head towards the approaching vampire.

 

Riley was the only one who had been currently stationed in the country, a hop away in Colorado, and he was slumped in the chair next to his baby brother’s bed when Angelus walked in. His boy looked as destroyed as his mother and sister, his dark honey blond hair greasy and sticking up at odd angles. As Angelus watched from the doorway Riley ran his hands through his hair again, oblivious to anything beyond the still figure in front of him. The young Marine was still in his BDUs, the jacket thrown over the back of the chair. Angelus could only see the side of his face, but could just discern the bleakness in his red rimmed eye and the pastiness of his normally golden skin beneath a day’s worth of blond stubble. Reluctantly Angelus turned his attention to Connor.

 

His littlest boy was as tall as his brothers, though on the thinner side since he ran track. Though Angelus had never attended one of his meets the vampire kept as detailed a file on the boy as he did all the others. Connor had called the retired Dr. Carey to ask for a recommendation for a track scholarship. He was supposed to be finishing his senior year and getting ready for college next fall. Right now Angelus could barely see the boy beneath all of the bandages and medical equipment. The smell of death sweetened the air, made slightly bitter by the heavy swirl of chemicals and medicine. Beneath the most cloying odors the vampire could smell burnt flesh.

 

The two Yellow who had met him at the airstrip followed him into the room, disinterested gazes taking in the boy on the bed before moving on. There was another bed in the intensive care unit but it was empty, the curtain that separated the room tied back to assure them they had the room to themselves. Riley did not even notice them until one of the Yellow walked across his line of sight to check the window. Others of its clan had probably already triple checked the room, but all of the Yellow were visibly upset to those who could see the signs. They took their responsibilities seriously and Connor was clinging to life by the grace of their lord.

 

Seeing a stranger not dressed in hospital clothes penetrated Riley’s shocked state and he started up from his chair in angered alarm. The boy’s natural defenses were completely down, his emotions painfully raw against his vampire mate as Angelus opened his end of the bond he usually kept partially closed to protect them both. Suddenly feeling a presence he hadn’t been aware of since he was seventeen Riley’s head swung around, confused eyes landing on the man he consciously recognized as Conal and subconsciously? Pushing down his boy’s awareness of himself as Riley Finn, US Marine, and pulling up his dual identity as Angelus’ beloved the vampire spread his arms wide and smiled when his boy’s weight slammed into him. 

 

Riley shuddered in his embrace, face tucked into his neck and Angelus felt his lips mouth a familiar word. “Sire.” Such desperate need was pouring off his childe. Riley trusted him to make this better, to somehow save his brother, and Angelus knew he would, even if it meant turning the boy.

 

“I am here, childe, put away your fears,” Angelus husked, taking the moment to glory in having his beautiful boy in his arms. Nightly visits to his dreams sustained his needs, but paled to inconsequential shadows to feel Riley’s breath against his skin, his heady masculine scent thick in his nostrils. His hands kneaded the hard muscles of his childe’s lean torso, filled out to a broadness he remembered from centuries before. For a few delicious minutes he indulged himself, and then he got back to the tasks at hand. While it was good to see his boy, he couldn‘t have him as an audience. “Go to sleep for me, childe. Put your fears to rest.”

 

To exhausted to struggle against the force pressing over him Riley relaxed quickly into his hold. Angelus pressed a kiss to his temple before swinging his dead weight up into his arms and carried him to the other bed. Stretching him out on the thin mattress the vampire breathed deeply of his scent, hand fisting in the thin fabric of his black t-shirt as he fought to control himself. First, he would save Connor and then he promised himself, he would renew his claim on his childe. 

 

With a rumble of displeasure Angelus stepped away from Riley, turned his back and mechanically picked up Connor’s chart from the foot of his bed. The master vampire never cursed his medical knowledge as he did then, staring at the words that starkly painted his youngest boy’s chances at life. Sixty percent of his body was covered in second and third degree burns, two vertebrae shattered, pelvis, both arms, skull fracture . . . Yes, by all rights Connor should be dead. The shock of his injuries should have killed him if nothing else. The boy was far enough along on his training to know a few protection spells, but nothing strong enough to save his life. No, this was all on Angelus. 

 

The door to the room burst open, Will stumbling through and slamming the door behind himself. The blond took in his surprised sire, the sleeping Finns and the three Yellow in a glance before he turned to check the door for a lock.

 

“Will?” Angelus had been expecting his childe and grandchilde, but not quite in this fashion. “Where is Elaine?”

 

“Takin’ her mom and the lil’ bit to a hotel,” Will distractedly answered. “Why doesn’t this damn thing have a lock!”

 

“Because the people with needles don’t like it when their patients lock them out. What’s going on?”

 

“Lanie wanted to have a word with the drunk that hit Con, so we’s stopped over in the ER where the copper said ‘e was. ‘Cept the driver wasn’t. Cops are lookin’ all over the place, broke right out of the handcuffs. Medium height, blonde woman. I smelled her, sire. It wasn’t no drunk driver. It was her, that dead bitch is here.”

 

Angelus carefully set down Connor’s chart. “I staked her myself, Will. Darla cannot be here.”

 

“I know what I smelled!” Will snarled, clearly panicked. 

 

Was it even possible? Before his childe had traveled back in time Angelus would have vehemently denied it, but what if Darla was somehow alive and here? After all of these decades . . . Darla had found his nest, but how? Why didn’t she come after him in Sunnydale? Too many questions and Angelus growled his frustration. “Make sure there is a guard on all of the Finns,” he ordered the nearest Yellow. “Two of you stay here with Riley and Connor. You,” he pointed a finger at the smallest one, “come with me and Will to the ER.” Seeing Will about to protest Angelus sharply shook his head. “Don’t argue with me, boy! Instead of tracking her scent you possibly led her right to us! If it’s Darla and not some upstart trying for a take over by fucking with your head.”

 

Will pouted, but turned back to unlock the door and lead his sire out, two of the guards at their heels. Angelus barked orders at the Yellow still stationed in the hall, making it perfectly clear that if anything happened to his mate their entire clan would suffer. “Where’s the ER, Will?”

 

They were just entering the elevator when the entire twelve story building shook. “What the hell is going on?” Angelus roared, barely leaping out of the elevator car before the doors slammed shut. Will was down on the floor, sprawled out and dazed in the flickering hall lights. Reaching down for him Angelus was abruptly thrown back into the elevator’s doors, briefly catching sight of the mottled dark yellow tentacles that snatched his childe and smacked him hard across the chest. Rolling back to his feet he snarled, giving chase. The Yellow had better have damn good reason for attacking their lord.

 

His growl deepened at being led back to Connor’s room, not liking the implications. The hall was notably empty of souls, human or otherwise, and though the door to Connor’s room was open, he could see nothing but white light. The trap was obvious, but then, what need was there for cleverness when the bait was irresistible? 

 

They had his boys.

 

Angelus stepped inside.

 

In a glance he took in the room that appeared identical to Connor’s. His youngest boy was still abed, hooked up to all of his monitors and various bags of fluid. Riley still slept in the bed over, an equally unconscious William now curled up next to him. None of the Yellow were in sight but a woman he didn’t recognize was staring at him from where she stood at Connor’s head.

 

And some woman who remarkably looked identical to Darla was staring hatefully down at his defenseless childer, her fingers playing in Will’s bleached curls before they traced their way to Riley’s stubbled jaw.

 

Angelus growled, instinctively shifting to gameface as he lunged to protect what was his. His rage and snarls increased tenfold when he was abruptly brought up short by the other woman appearing in front of him, surrounded by some invisible force that held him back. She looked polished, from her perfectly coiffed hair to her thousand dollar heels, obviously dressed to impress, and Angelus didn’t give a fuck.

 

“Mr. Angel, if you-” she started, hungry and enticing smile not making a scratch.

 

“Get out of my way.”

 

The smile didn’t falter. “Mr. Angel, I am here to represent the interests of my employers -”

 

He stabbed a finger in the direction of the Darla clone who‘d turned to watch him helplessly rage. “She’s dead and if you’re responsible for her getting out of hell, so are you.”

 

The woman just kept at it. “- who would like a resolution to several questions they have regarding your souled state.”

 

Darla tsked softly, glancing at her errant childe sidelong. “They don’t believe me, Angel. They found me in Hell, brought me back. I told them you were cursed, that you had to be cursed to leave your sire, but they don’t believe me.”

 

“Evidence is inconclusive and frankly, as confusing as hell.” Angelus’ attention flickered between the two women before he settled on the unknown threat in Verace. “Mr. Angel, my name is Lilah Morgan and I am here representing the partners at Wolfram and Hart.” She glanced around the hospital room, lingering on Connor. “Our file on you has been confounding researchers for decades. Are you the vampire cursed with a soul or are you Angelus, and if you are, what’s your interest in a poor white country bumpkin family? Some did not believe the information we collected, but here you are after one of these kids is threatened.”

 

Implying they had arranged Connor’s accident? Angelus did not feel any inclination to answer the woman, psychotically enraged golden eyes staring at her coldly, patiently. He knew the law firm she spoke of, of their offices in LA. ‘Frankly’, he had a few questions of his own. Like how this bitch was able to find out about the Finns. A few seconds in she shifted uncomfortably, slowly easing greater distance between them. Rallying herself took visible effort, but the vampire didn’t take any pleasure in rattling her cage when his two most precious boys in the world were out of his reach.

 

“Ah, we, we know you were cursed by a gypsy clan.” Lilah paused, frowning as she showed her first signs of weakness. “Weren’t you?”

 

The bint was being insistent on this whole soul business, wasn’t she? Angelus arched an inquisitive brow, casually crossing his arms. “You’ve gone to some trouble over this, haven’t you? What do your senior partners care for the affairs of one lowly vampire?”

 

“The Senior Partners don’t like mysteries, Mr. Angel. Two sons bitten by a werewolf, one daughter disappeared and this one,” she gestured back towards Riley, “marked as a vampire’s claimed so heavily its impressive he has any independent will left at all. Is the Finn family cursed? Darla says the boy there is yours. Yet you’re off in Sunnydale panting after the Slayer and killing your own kind. None of this adds up, Mr. Angel, and my employers don’t like that.”

 

Angelus snorted, running his fingers across the invisible barrier, feeling for its shape, its range, any weaknesses that would let him through. “They don’t like that?” he softly repeated in mocking horror. His demeanor abruptly shifted, snarling and raging. “Why should I give a fuck what they do and don’t like?”

 

Lilah had jumped at his sudden personality shift, staring at him like he suddenly doubted his sanity. It was a good mindset for her to have. “The, ah, the Senior Partners are very interested in working with you, Mr. Angel. They want to invest in your future.”

 

My future is on that bed behind you, you daft bitch, but those were not thoughts to say aloud. “They sure know how to show that interest,” he growled, glaring at his resurrected sire.

 

“Darla assured us she could guarantee your good behavior as your sire.” The lawyer sounded like she was doubting that one now too. 

 

“Did she now?” Angelus grinned. “Was that before or after I ran her through with a stake?”

 

“That was Angel,” Lilah assured him. “We are interested in doing business with Angelus.” Her smile was brittle, but still had that professional polish. Angelus doubted it lost its shine even when she was getting buggered up the ass by her vaulted senior partners. “We require assurance, however, of who we are dealing with and what his agenda is so we can better serve each other.”

 

“Hmmm.” Angelus rubbed his chin. “Serve. Serve. Such a vulgar word you put to me. You stick your fingers into my affairs without invitation and you speak of how I would serve YOU?”

 

Did his tone give him away? He was so out of practice in equivocation. The chintzy anorexic whore suddenly backed up to cower against Darla, her sharp elbow prodding the blond bitch. Darla, however, did not step any closer, though she smiled beatifically. 

 

“She doesn’t understand, my darling. She doesn’t understand that that nasty curse has you all confused.” She turned to the openly skeptical lawyer, sneering. “Once you lift the curse Angelus will obey me, his sire. Why don’t you believe me?”

 

Lilah glanced between sire and childe, possibly thinking the same as Angelus did, that her jaunt to Hell had swept away the last traces of sense haunting her empty head. “Because he looks like he wants to stake you all over again and I don’t think that’s going to change,” she bluntly answered.

 

So she was smarter than her fashion sense or else that micro skirt was disguising some impressive balls. Didn’t mean she was going to be any less dead. A vampire had to adhere to the principles of these things and he was feeling a mite peckish.

 

Darla was laughing at the lawyer when she suddenly stopped. A golden light suffused the room, blinding and giving Angelus a fright before two freakishly dressed people appeared. A man and a woman, their gold skin a shade darker than their togas, practically identical in their androgyny. Nothing about them smelled human or demonic and Angelus growled, now convinced his entire day had just gone to shit. Who wanted to fuck with him now?

 

The newbies had popped into the party at the end of the bed his two boys were on, underneath the ceiling mounted crappy little TV. Lilah the lawyer started cursing shrilly at the sight of them, but Angelus knew that didn’t necessarily make them good news for him.

 

The male-ish one flicked a dismissive hand at the women. “Be gone, agent of chaos.”

 

“Hey now,” Angelus objected, not wanting to be alone with the freaky twosome. “I was going to eat one, maybe both.” Well, not really. He shuddered to think of what Darla would taste like after having whored for who knew how many blokes to finagle her way back to this dimension. Probably tasted like a two month dead rat left at the bottom of a urinal. 

 

The lawyer had never ceased her tirade and so didn’t hear the dark vampire’s protest. “Now see here, the laws clearly state-” she began, only to abruptly vanish, taking Darla with her.

 

Watching the bizarre twins, Angelus was unconcerned about Darla and her new bitch by the simple attention to the truth they were no longer here. He reached out a finger and poked where the barrier had divided the room. When nothing resisted him stabbing the air he rushed to his boys, rumbling reassurance and briefly nuzzling his face into the shadowed space betwixt their throats. All too briefly he took in their mingled scent, hyper aware of the two watching him show this crippling weakness.

 

“Angelus Aurelius,” the vaguely female one summoned, “Master of the House of Aurelius, we call on you to answer the Powers That Be.”

 

Straightening from his boys the dark vampire rubbed one ear, convinced he hadn’t heard right. “You want to repeat that, because it sounded like you just asked the Scourge of Europe to work for the penultimate good guys.”

 

“The Powers That Be are neither good nor evil. Those are the province of lesser beings. The Powers That Be are the balance that governs between. We call on Angelus Aurelius to aid in the balance between these forces.”

 

Angelus smirked, liking where this was going. “Too many saints running about in your opinion? Need me to cull the herd? Give all them nasties a fighting chance?”

 

The male frowned in open frustration. “As Champion to the Powers That Be you will be charged with safeguarding those innocents who will be weighed into the balance.”

 

By all the gods of Hell, were they serious? Realizing they were he burst out laughing, loud guffaws that drowned out the beeping of Connor’s equipment. Maybe he should have gone with the evil lawyers. It was a hard choice to make, stupid or insane? The dark vampire collapsed against the bed, chortling while the Dynamic Duo not so patiently waited his answer.

 

Slowly Angelus calmed, putting a hand to his chest as he made a production of recovering his nonexistent breath. When he caught the male silently huffing out of the corner of his vision he straightened up, suddenly again serious. “While your offer to waste my time helping those too weak and stupid to save themselves is refreshing, I’m gonna have ta turn it down. Scheduling conflict, sorry. I’m on a tight timeline to take over all of North America. You understand. Empire building is just exhausting, and with the kids and the second job, I barely have time to suck down three squares a day.”

 

“Refusal,” the female intoned, “will result in immediate and permanent expulsion from this dimension.”

 

Well, shite. “Hunh. That’s a strong counter-offer, I gotta say.” He glanced up from frowning at his Italian loafers. “You do know I’m not Angel, right? That the whole thing in Sunnydale is just pretend like?”

 

“We do not know of whom you speak,” the male said while the woman answered at the same time, “Your affairs beyond the execution of your duties do not concern us.”

 

Well, that raised his eyebrows and the vampire gestured expansively to include the various comatose males filling the room. “So it doesn’t matter to you none that I’ve corrupted an entire line of children?”

 

“They do not weigh. Angelus Aurelius must champion the balance.”

 

What they were babbling about finally clicked. They wanted Angelus to balance his own deeds, a good for an evil. HE was to exist in balance. They really meant to botch up his plans with this innocent nonsense, but something William had mentioned came back to him. “Say I take on this championship, is your issue with the how of their salvation or the result?”

 

“They must be weighed.”

 

“Yeah,” he scratched the side of his nose, feeling his left eye starting to twitch. Could they be less communicative? “That really helps. So, do I just pick up a police scanner or do you have a, I don’t know, phone book I could use? How does Batman do it?” Angel had had his little after school club slash hotel brothel thing going on. He’d planned to just make AI a glorified daycare center for the losers Angel had latched onto, but maybe he could actually put it to use. Now who had filled up that little club?

 

“The Seer will guide the Champion,” they said in stereo and then vanished. Or maybe he did because Angelus suddenly found himself staring at the back of Will’s head as his childe pushed open the door of Connor’s room. Three Yellow were in the room and Riley was curled into a cold ball on the second bed. A less self assured demon would have wondered if he’d imagined the last several minutes, but Angelus was possibly a sociopath, criminally genius certainly, but he wasn’t inclined to hallucinations without a heavy dosing of narcotics.

 

“Will, hold up,” he stopped the blond’s charge out the door with a large hand on his shoulder. William swung around in ready protest, but Angelus just yanked him back into the room. “I’ll explain later, but something’s just happened.” Looking at the surrounding Yellow he noticed their human suits were quivering. “Did you guys see any of what happened?”

 

“You vanished, then came back.”

 

“Wot?” Will exclaimed, letting himself be shoved back into a chair. “That bitch Darla is downstairs!”

 

“Not anymore, I don’t think.” Angelus scratched the back of his head, mind whirling with everything that needed to get done. “None of the Finns are safe right now. We need to get Moira to LA where Alessandro can watch her and I’m gonna need the twins for daycare duty full time.” Elaine could take care of herself, and those were the easy decisions to make, the children already fully sworn to his House. There was also the issue of just who had betrayed him to the law firm because he didn’t believe for a second Darla had been the one to find out his secret.

 

“You can’t yank the boy out,” William said unnecessarily behind him and Angelus waved a quieting hand, staring at his youngest boy slowly dying. He had a germ of an idea as to how to protect Riley in this dangerous time before he transferred into the Initiative. The bigger worries were Connor and Bridge. They were both still in school, his little chatterbox with two years left. “Their father is coming up on retirement,” his oldest seemed determined to read his mind. “Lanie’s mentioned often enough about them always wanting to see the country in one of them shiny sausages.”

 

Bridget loved acting, the attention, and she was good if the awards she decorated her shelves with were anything to go by. Nothing better than a captive audience to listen her talk. “Isn’t there some performance high school in LA?”

 

William shrugged. “Be surprised if there wasn’t”

 

Sitting on the edge of his bed Angelus carefully studied Connor’s battered body. By the partial mark he’d placed on the inside of his left wrist the vampire could faintly feel the boy’s agony, his struggle to live. That tie to his master was keeping the youth alive more certainly than all of the drugs and modern gadgetry violating his weakened flesh. That mark could keep him alive if Angelus called on it, used it and deepened it. Through that mark Connor could heal, though it would take months, possibly years, and he would have horrible scars to show for it. If the boy fully learned his dark magicks, that time would compress to a number of healing spells. The ordeal was going to be agonizing, tied to a broken body while his mind struggled to learn what took most dark practioners decades to master. Angelus doubted Connor was going to weather the torture unchanged, but the boy was his, as all his siblings were, and he would do what was demanded of him or break in the trying.

 

All he needed to do was give Connor that time. 

 

*

The doctors pronounced Connor dead in the early morning. His mother wailed into her grim faced daughter Elaine’s shoulder, the young woman’s other arm about her shocked baby sister. They advised immediate burial, within the next day if possible, as soon as the family could be gathered. Elaine nodded, the apologetic Yellow in his spiffy new MD certified human bodysuit quite convincing when he talked about burn severity and body decomposition. He was the doctor who had been treating Connor since he had been first brought in, after all, and Maria and Bridget were too distraught to notice if he stood differently than before or occasionally shifted oddly. 

 

Hearing his brother was dead and watching the silent nurses began their work of unplugging Connor’s body had sent Riley out into the hall. He wandered aimlessly, unaware of where his feet took him, the loss of his little brother detaching him from even his most basic senses. He was a soldier, he understood death, but not like this. Not quiet little Connor. The denial of it screamed inside, deafening him to the noises of the hospital, of his own labored breathing as he ran oblivious to the pounding of his feet and the voices shouting after him. The ache grew inside, a terrible pain that he whimpered for, a desperate part of himself he did not even recognize calling out for relief. 

 

Everything stopped. Riley shivered, sliding down a wall he did not remember coming to, unseeing the darkness that closed in on his slumped figure. His feet were out somewhere in front of him but his eyes couldn’t make sense of his black boots so they just faded away with the rest of him. Distantly, he realized he was crying. His world had just broken open and spilled everything good and worthwhile out onto the dirt. 

 

He looked like an abandoned doll, Angelus thought coming out of the darkness. If he could have spared his cherub this pain, he would have gladly explained their ruse, that Connor was going to live. Yet he couldn’t, because the very forthright earnestness that he loved cursed his boy to this torment. If he thought for one moment Riley could lie and act the honest lover with Summers . . .but Riley was too possessed of honor to play at such games. Not when he was unwittingly playing in a far more dangerous one.

 

And in the darkness he would keep him. Riley’s responses to his touch were mindless, unconscious. It was not the reunion of flesh Angelus had dreamed of. It was almost mechanical though not without passion, tainted with desperation and grief. Those beautiful hazel eyes did not even look at him as he moved over his boy, into him. He did not have the strength to deny his body’s craving, but for the first time in his long existence, Angelus hated what he did, hated his need for this boy. It was not even fucking, Riley pliant and unresponsive to his rhythmic thrusting. When he came he growled at the familiar sweep of pleasure, angry that his body could find any satisfaction in raping his precious childe.

 

He despised himself with a blackness of heart that would in the coming months see a bloodbath unleashed on his enemies, on those who had brought them to this. Wolf, Ram and Hart would learn the cost of fucking with his family. Yet, he could not stop what needed doing. He leaned down to lick the tears from his cherub’s face, purring to reassure him. “Listen to me, childe. You will let this grief fade from you. You will let Connor go.” Riley whimpered and tried to turn away, but Angelus took firm grip of his jaw, forcing him to meet the mesmerizing yellow eyes staring down into his own. “No disobedience, boy. You will forget and let go of this pain. Connor loved you, remember that. Loved you as I love you. Now let him go.” It was an order, one that lodged itself like a bullet in the depths of Riley’s carefully manipulated mind and exploded the last of his resistance.

 

Riley wailed beneath him, a mad sound of grief and denial pouring out along with all his pain. Through their bond he could feel the boy helplessly fighting against the exodus, his struggles as ineffective as a moth fluttering against the inside of a jar. Angelus’ command did more than drain the pus from the wound Connor’s loss had inflicted, it cauterized it. From now, when Riley thought of his brother, it would be without any of this crippling pain. Was it wrong of him to deny Riley his mourning? Connor lived and that was justification enough for Angelus. Let his boy only remember the good times and be spared the backlash from his enemies’ orchestrations. 

 

After all, had he not promised anything to see Riley completely his? For he was indeed a selfish beast, jealous of even grief if it took his boy’s devotion from him for even a moment. A jealous, despised beast that forgot every self-flagellation when his boy smiled into sleep beneath the heavy watch of his gaze.

 

TBC.


	9. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Three women. 

 

~*~

1998.

 

Mary Shenkel was having a crapfest of a day. Late to work because of a power outage on her block meant having to stay late to make up the time and so missing the eight o’clock bus. The 168 line only ran every hour so it was a four block hustle down the street to a suspect diner to grab something to fill her stomach. On her way back to the bus stop she caught a heel in a crack in the pavement and almost screamed her frustration when she felt it snap off. This whole fucking day sucked and she blinked furiously against the pricking of tears as she hobbled to the nearest wall. Bracing against the grimy brick face of the building she examined her shoe as well as she could without letting her mini-skirt ride up too high. It hadn’t even been a clean break, but instead she had a wedge still stuck on, making her balance even more precarious. How the hell was she going to manage the walk to the stop and then the six blocks to her apartment once she was dropped off? Could she maybe swing a taxi?

 

“Need some help, ma’am?” A solicitous voice asked over her head.

 

“No, thanks, I -” Mary started to answer but she trailed off when she glanced up to see the three young Hispanic men surrounding her. They were dressed like teenagers in baggy jeans and those ridiculous extra long t-shirts, but they were filthy and smelled foul. Every warning bell her mother had hammered into her head started to clang. “No, thank you,” she tried more firmly.

 

“Then maybe you can help us,” one of them said and Mary gasped in a breath to scream when their faces suddenly protruded grotesquely. A hand clamped over her mouth as more clutched her body, lifting her into the darkness between two buildings. They were laughing, tearing at her blouse and Mary screamed anyway, kicking her feet. A hard hand painfully squeezed her breasts and she screamed again.

 

“Stop playing with the bitch. I’m hungry.”

 

“Chica’s got nice tits,” and a face pressed into her chest as the teen growled. Pain flared in her left breast and Mary clawed at the figures hunching over her, biting the hand closed over her mouth and nose. She couldn’t breathe!

 

A loud pitched growling filled the darkness and for the rest of her life Mary could never clearly recall what had happened. The alley had been too dark to see anything in detail, but the men holding her had suddenly let go, cursing and screaming as something came at them out of the shadows. The cacophony of noise was brief and Mary huddled back against the wall throughout it all, tears dripping steadily onto her bared chest. 

 

Then it got quiet and she wondered if she’d gone deaf until she realized she couldn’t hear anything over her sobbing. Were they still there? Something moved in the heavy shadows and Mary wailed, crying harder. 

 

A huge dog trotted out of the darkness towards her, tongue lolling, big pointed ears twitching in excitement. Mary’s crying stuttered, staring in amazement that a dog had rescued her, some kind of shaggy collie or something. A man followed after the dog, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt that showed off his muscled physique. He was ruggedly handsome with medium brown hair that likely had golden highlights in daylight. Most remarkable about his appearance was the leather choker around his throat, incongruous with the plainness of the rest of his attire.

 

“Miss?” the man softly asked, stopping well back out of arms reach. “It’s okay. My dog here chased those men off. Do you need me to call 911?” It was irrational, but the sight of the dog calmed her perfectly logical fears of another stranger, though she soon found her nerves were still shaky.

 

“I, I,” Mary slowly crawled up the wall, uncertain if her legs would even support her once she got upright. While the man had stopped a safe distance away his dog just kept coming towards her, tail wagging as he stuck his head under her skirt and buried his wet nose in her crotch. Mary yelped in surprised mortification and rocketed to her feet. “Oh my goodness!” She wobbled and almost crashed back to the ground but the man caught her, shoving his rude dog out of the way.

 

“Whoa there! Jack, no!” The guy actually took off his shirt and handed it over, helping her into it when she found her arms hurt when she lifted them over her head. “You should be proud of yourself, though you’re going to hurt for the next couple of days. Here,” and he tugged the shirt down so that it fell to mid thigh. 

 

“Better hurt than dead,” Mary agreed, unconsciously reaching out to grip his shoulder while she glanced down at herself. Oh yeah, a giddy voice declared, quite the fashion statement. She was still teetering on one broken heel and her good Samaritan caught on when the dog Jack sniffed her shoes and barked.

 

“Hold on, okay? I’m going to try and fix your shoes.” Bending down he took her shoes off one at a time, using his big strong hands to snap off first the broken heel and then the other. Instant flats. Mary smiled tremulously when he offered her the heel with a sheepish expression.

 

“Toss it. They only work as a set.”

 

“Right.” With his dog trotting out ahead of them the guy escorted her to the bus stop. It wasn’t until she was sitting down on the cracked plastic seat of the bus that she realized she hadn’t asked her rescuer’s name.

 

*

Back in the concealing shadows of an alley the man and his ’dog’ watched the bus pull out. Then the dog’s form shifted and blurred until a man identical to the other stood in Jack’s place. A hand rose up and smacked the shirtless one upside the head.

 

“Hello! Whadya ruin my fun for? I was giving her a help up.”

 

“Ow! You really are a dog, you know that? We were supposed to save that woman, not cop a feel.” He shouldered past his partner to head back down the alley. “Did Doyle say that was our only rescue tonight?”

 

The other hurried after. “Yeah.” The same hand came up again, but this time curled around his twin’s nape to draw him into a hard buss. “Wanna borrow my shirt, little boy?”

 

“And you’ll wear what?” 

 

“I look good in less clothing.”

 

“That you do,” came the teasing concession.

 

“You look better.”

 

“In less?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

~*~

 

Lanie frowned when Xander slunk into the tea shop nearly half an hour late for his shift and her displeasure mounted when he didn’t even apologize. A mirror ran the length of the wall behind the counter, letting her monitor the shop even with her back to it as she did then, standing at the steamer. She felt Xander slide behind her on his way to the cash register, but he stopped. Glancing up into the mirror Lanie started. Was he sniffing her?

 

Carefully not to actually touch her Xander was indeed scenting her, head cocked at an odd angle. His eyes were partially closed, but what she could see of them possessed none of their usual sparkle. They were dull, predatory, and the vampiress felt the hairs stand up on her arms, an all too human response to her demon instincts going off. Beyond Xander she could see her customers were also aware of the change in the teenager, though none moved to intercede. It was her shop, after all, and her employee.

 

Not wanting to see if Xander would react to an open challenge Lanie subtly rebuffed him instead. Rolling her shoulder back into his hard enough to push him back made him tense and softly growl, but Lanie was not going to be cowed. Though she had only been amongst her grandsire’s court a few times she knew the rules of survival and dominance. When Xander growled, obviously wanting to test her, she growled back and twisted around to look him right in the eye. You do not have the balls to challenge me, little boy, the look said and Xander backed down, resentful gaze dropping in submission.

 

“Xander, you want to tell me why you’re late?” And why you stink, because the boy was reeking to her hyper sensitive nose.

 

Xander shrugged, backing slowly from out behind the counter. “Had better things to do.”

 

Elaine watched him carefully. If he stayed he was going to challenge her again she was certain, possibly some of the customers, and he was going to do it more openly. Whatever was wrong with him, she couldn’t fix, but she also didn’t know if she should let him go. What if he seriously hurt someone or challenged a demon who didn’t abide Angelus’ protection?

 

She made her decision. 

 

“Well, why don’t you come back when being at your job on time and with the right attitude is what you want to do?” It wasn’t a question. She almost caved at the brief flash of betrayal that flitted across his face, but his behavior was unacceptable. Will wanted Xander the happiest life he could give him without revealing himself, but a soft hand never helped any child. Xander needed to learn. Moira would have smacked him for his impertinence and demanded an immediate apology, but Elaine just watched him storm out of the shop.

 

Once he was gone her eyes flicked to one of the back booths, but the Yellow there was already on its cell, likely calling one of its brethren to follow the boy. Elaine hadn’t liked getting a bodyguard after the attack on Connor, but she was grateful now that someone who could go out into the daylight was going to follow Xander. 

 

She served her waiting customer his chai and then the two waiting behind him. When no one signaled for her attention she locked the cash register and headed out from behind the counter. “Bob, could you watch the counter for a minute?” she called out to the regular who was of Angelus’ court, not waiting for his slow nod before ducking into the kitchen. Retrieving her cellphone she dialed a memorized number.

 

 

“It’s Xander, there’s something wrong with him,” Elaine said bluntly. “He came in late, sniffed me and then challenged me by growling.”

 

Her sire was quiet on the other end of the line though she could hear paper shuffling. Then, 

 

“And you didn’t think to warn me?” the redhead hissed. “I had to kick him out of the shop so he wouldn’t make a scene with the customers.”

 

“Well now, I dinna know when it’d happen, now did I?” Will snarked back. “Boy mentioned it a time or two, but ‘is mates ate the principal so he was shy about it all.”

 

“He has a pack acting like him? I think a Yellow is going to be tailing him to make sure he doesn’t get arrested pissing on a fire hydrant.” Lanie rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. There was a tray of almond squares waiting for the chocolate shavings Xander was to have grated on when he came in sitting innocently on the counter in front of her. Snatching one she savagely bit it in half. “Are we sure he’s not going to chow the principal? His circumstances have somewhat changed, haven’t they?”

 

“Bollocks,” Will muttered. “Ya said the Yellow are on him? Thanks, luv, I’ll follow up with them. Last time, Xan was only wonky a few days so keep an eye for him.”

 

“Will do,” Elaine sighed, listening to her sire hang up. Living on the Hellmouth was certainly never boring.

 

*

 

The principal was already dead by the time Xander had showed up at the tea shop. William was in a fine state of agitation, upset over thinking this was all supposed to have happened before the Master was dusted, but his memories were inconclusive due to Spike having not really cared what had gone on in Sunnydale before he came. All of his information for this time was spotty and secondhand, gossip and late night talks with his pet. William snarked about it and his own sire’s seeming inability to follow a simple plan, convinced all of this and his ulcer were Angelus’ fault.

 

Elaine had patiently listened until her shift ended and two of the minions showed up to take her place. It was three a.m. and she was starving. With her Yellow bodyguard trailing after she headed for her car parked in its reserved spot in front of the café.

 

Even before the Yellow chittered softly in warning Elaine had felt the tension in the air immediately upon stepping through the exit. Main at Sixth was never quiet at night and certainly hosted some of the most dangerous denizens of Sunnydale, but not even demons pissed where they fed and lived. There were unspoken rules about this street and a demon’s conduct while visiting, rules that were harshly enforced. No one fought or in any way disrupted the relative peace on Main at Sixth. It just wasn’t done. But Lanie had seen the occasional upstart, the demon who was more full of drugs than common sense, who thought they could quickly make a name for themselves by raising a little ruckus on Demon Street. There usually wasn’t anything of them left, especially not after whatever remained was gobbled up the Samiam, Mrs. Henderson, that ran the bakery. The shop owners and their customers alike usually made quick work of any troublemakers.

 

That was the tension Elaine recognized when she came outside and she immediately spotted the cause. Demons were coming out of the stores up and down the street, attracted to the barely leashed menace of the five teenagers silently watching her from the roof and hood of her car.

 

Fuck. It wasn’t that she feared five deranged kids. No, she feared for them, because if they attacked she couldn’t guarantee their safety. Hell, she couldn’t guarantee her own. She wasn’t supposed to reveal her vampiric nature to Xander, but what other choice was left? If she could scare him off before he did something fatal, she’d rather lose his trust than his life.

 

The choice was explosively taken from her, however, with a wet heavy rending sound. The Yellow behind her erupted out of his human body suit with a grotesque spraying of fluid, mucus slime and chunks of partially decomposed tissue. Standing directly in front of the explosion Elaine screamed in shocked outrage, clothes and hair instantly soaked in the rainfall of gore.

 

The Yellow looked nothing so much like a mutated, bloated squid and for good reason since they were a parasitic aquatic demon. Hence the need for the body suits. No one knew how Yellow squeezed themselves into human bodies and no one wanted to see how they went about it. The Yellow behind her had what looked like twenty or so tentacles flailing the air with admirable accuracy, screeching through its sucker fish mouth. Tentacles ten, fifteen feet long lashed about the screaming vampiress, thumping the car and striking a glancing blow to one of the male Primals. 

 

The possessed teenagers could not flee fast enough, tumbling off of her car and over each other trying to escape, yelping and whining. None of the demons on the street gave pursuit, finding Elaine’s humiliation far more entertaining. Lifting her hands to wipe off her face the redhead sobbed at the slime that trailed from her fingers. She was a disgusting mess.

 

A dark yellow splotched tentacle tentatively stroked up her arm, obviously trying to help as another petted her hair. The Yellow blew raspberries of contrition, but Elaine waved it off. “No, no, I’m . . .I need,” she hiccupped, “I need . . .I don’t know, but this smell better come off.”

 

The burbling response she got in no way sounded encouraging.

 

~*~

 

Lilah Morgan sighed gratefully once her front door closed behind her. Since losing the bid to recruit Angel to their side she’d had to watch the glass ceiling slide into place over her head, that shit eater Lindsey MacDonald getting all of the good cases. It wasn’t even her fault the Golden Twins had showed and ruined everything. She’d tried to convince the partners that her plan was still sound, that these Finns were the weakness to breaking Angel, but no one was willing to listen. As it was she was having to continue her surveillance of the surviving kids using what limited resources and manpower she could browbeat out of her inferiors. One of those brats was holding the secret to her redemption and she would prove it to everyone.

 

Dropping her briefcase and purse on her small dining table she hopped out of her heels on her way to the bedroom. A quick change into some more comfortable clothes and then some dinner before she went over the latest reports on the various Finns. Maybe Angel was interested in how two averagely attractive people could produce seven beautiful kids because it certainly galled her. Her parents hadn’t been any plainer than the Finns, yet she’d had to trade her soul to get her looks.

 

She froze coming through the French doors of her room, a chill of terror skittering down her spine. A small red gift box was sitting on the end of her bed, a black and silver bow perched jauntily on top. She’d been at this game too long to assume the innocence of such an innocuous present. The house was supposed to have wards up to prevent any kind of break-in, spells her employers had provided and a few she’d commissioned on her own to protect against those same employers. Yet none of the wards had gone off, which could mean too many unpleasant guests could still be here. Her gun was in her purse and she slowly started to back up, unconsciously holding her breath.

 

“Ms. Morgan, how was the grind today? Not too stressful, I hope.” She recognized that voice immediately, knew his presence in her home could only promise one thing. The only other door into her room led to the bathroom and she made a run for it, dropping her shoes. Not two steps and she was lifted and thrown onto her bed, a heavy weight crashing into her. Lilah screamed, lashing out with her sharp manicured nails, determined to fight.

 

A hard smack stopped her scream as Angel’s other hand caught her swinging wrist and pinned it to the mattress under his knee. Her second hand soon followed, the vampire straddling her waist. Even knowing it was futile Lilah struggled until she exhausted herself, loud curses growing hoarse as Angel just coldly waited.

 

When she was panting for air the vampire reached down to tuck back her disarrayed hair, tsking softly. “Now is that any way to greet the vampire you’ve been so eager to recruit? I thought you’d be happy to see me. Why, I even brought you a present.”

 

Lilah shook her head, babbling hysterically. “Angel, hurting that boy, I was just doing what I was ordered to do. I didn’t want to hurt him, any of them. Darla was also their idea. I’m just a lawyer on the payroll.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure your senior partners don’t care what happens to you,” Angel smiled compassionately. “You are very expendable and that must hurt, in here,” he touched his fingers to where his own shriveled heart rested, “but don’t worry, they’re going to appreciate you soon.”

 

Did he mean to accept their offer? Lilah frowned and licked her lips as the vampire reached back for the present that had somehow stayed on the bed. “Angel, I know I said the Senior Partners want Angelus, but please believe me, they are just as eager to put you on retainer. Anything you want, anyone, and they will get it for you. You want the Slayer? They can make her your personal slave.”

 

“Hmm.” Angel studied the box in his hands before his dark brown eyes flicked down to her. “Why is it, you think, Christians kill in the name of their benevolent God when He’s supposed to be omniscient and omnipresent? Don’t you find that contradictory? Heretical even? If He is so powerful, why can’t they just put their faith in Him and trust in His divine will?”

 

Lilah didn’t know what to say. Religion at Wolfram and Hart was a funny thing, cause for the damnation of many of their clients and yet also reason for much of their walk-in business. The large vampire didn’t seem to want her answer though, softly continuing as he fluffed the box’s bow. “You claim to want me, to need my power and grace, yet you don’t trust me. No faith at all. The faithless should be punished for their heresy.”

 

It came to her then, the truth of the vampire holding her to her bed. The moodiness, the strange humor. The god-like complex. “Angelus,” she whimpered, and the demon smiled beatifically. 

 

“Well, I’d like to say the truth shall set you free, but,” he shrugged, “that’s not going to happen. You hurt one of my kids. You made ME hurt my precious boy. You have inconvenienced and threatened plans that have been in the works for centuries. YOU have bloody well PISSED me off!” Angelus roared into her face, his true demonic visage rippling to the surface. Inhuman strength and violence wrenched open her legs, tearing muscles and tendons with such ferocity that it took the pain several long seconds to reach her brain. She was actually staring horrified at her spasmodically twitching legs when the agony hit and she wailed.

 

Kneeling down between her feet Angelus patiently waited for her cries to taper off into wretched sobs, carefully placing his box between her thighs. Though her arms were now free she couldn’t move from the pain and laid there, tears running down into her hair. Her skirt had worked itself up her thighs during her struggles, exposing her crotch to the vampire. Lilah couldn’t say she hadn’t traded barely consensual sex for perks at work, but this violation in her own home was far more terrifying. She was going to be raped, brutally assaulted, and there was no one in her life who was going to cry over her broken corpse when it was discovered. 

 

“I know, I know,” Angelus sighed as she continued to cry, trembling hands trying to tug down her skirt. He put a hand over his eyes, mocking her in a high falsetto. “Oh no, the mean nasty vampire is going to rape me! Oh, my virtue!” Then he laughed, patting her knee. “Please. Sweetie, I have a reputation to maintain and while these last few years have been trying, trust me. Your sloppy seconds virtue is safe from me.”

 

Lilah clenched her fists, refusing to accept the further humiliation of the vampire’s insults. “Fuck you,” she rasped, unconsciously tensing for a retaliatory blow.

 

The dark vampire just continued to chuckle until he trailed off with a great sigh. “You’ve got fire, Lilah, I’ll give you that, so enough games. Here’s what’s going to happen.” Lifting the lid off the box he reached in and pulled out a slimy, bloated pale yellow worm. “This is a baby Yellow. Cute little bugger, isn’t he?” The worm nosed around Angelus’ palm and then rose up so she could see its teeth filled little mouth. Lilah swallowed, suddenly certain she didn’t want to know what a Yellow was. 

 

“Now Yellow,” Angelus continued, “are an interesting demon. See, they can’t really get around on land, being just a bunch of tentacles. What they do is wiggle their way into a land lubber, just eat them hollow and then suit up. A real friendly group, though. Maybe you didn’t notice them in Iowa. Anyway, this little guy, he’s going to devour your insides, grow nice and big and strong on all your yummy organs, and this is the good part. Once he’s all grown he’s going to walk your body into Wolfram and Hart and deliver my greetings. Oh, he might not be able to take out all your bosses, but I think they’ll get the message, don’t you?”

 

“Please,” Lilah begged when the vampire dropped the worm onto her lap. Before she could bat it away it disappeared beneath her skirt and she cried out to feel it squirming against her crotch. Did she imagine she could feel its little teeth chewing through her panty hose and underwear? She tried to reach between her legs, to pull it away, but she couldn’t hold onto its slick, wiggling body. 

 

Angelus rolled off the bed and then stood there watching her writhe while he straightened his clothes. “The Yellow usually seek the closest orifice. Are you as curious as I am to which one it’ll go for?” Seconds later he had his answer as Lilah screamed and continued to scream long after the vampire had graciously let himself out.

 

TBC.


End file.
